The Butterfly Effect
by CMakg
Summary: Trip discovers T'Pol's trellium use in the early weeks and prevents it becoming an addiction. How does it affect their developing relationship and the subsequent events that occurred on Enterprise.
1. Prologue: To the left

_I have made some assumptions about the timeline for this fiction as there seem to be some inconsistencies in Canon dialogue. During Azati Prime Captain Archer says that he gave the order to create the clone a month before. The date of The Council is 12 February. Based on dialogue, that is 3 days after The Forgotten, which was two days after Azati Prime. According to dialogue that would make Similitude the beginning of January, which is impossible as Proving Ground which came 3 episodes after Similitude, occurred at the beginning of December. Because Trip would have needed some time to recover from his accident it makes more sense to me that Similitude was at least a month before Proving Ground which would coincide with the beginning of T'Pols trellium addiction._

 _This is my first ever Fan Fic - be kind._

 _Naturally I own non of it - it all belongs to CBS._

* * *

 **Prologue: To the left**

" _you could not remove a single grain of sand from its place without thereby ... changing something throughout all parts of the immeasurable whole"_ Johann Gottlieb Fichte, The Vocation of Man (1800)

The Temporal Agents of the future could probably have traced each ripple through space and time that resulted in the changes. In all probability the history of this Enterprise over the past 6 months in the expanse was riddled with small events that differed in unmeasurable ways from their time traveling counterparts whose descendants still roamed the expanse. But if a comparison of the records of the two enterprises was made, it would be this point which would be highlighted as significant. In that other timeline it may have been that the chief engineer had not sustained that particular injury at that exact time necessitating the visit to the sick bay and his binary options upon leaving. Maybe in that other timeline a passing colleague had directed his attention right and his feet had followed. Perhaps the other chef had made Pecan Pie that day and the Commander's desires had been directed more to the mess hall. Whatever the magnitude of the eventual outcome, if the Temporal agents of the 29th century had taken the time to study the timeline, it seems they found no reason for a large scale intervention. Either in the original timeline, when NX-01 passed through the sub-space corridor to be thrown back in time, or in this one where Commander Tucker was just leaving sickbay after treatment for a minor burn and Sub-Commander T'Pol was in Cargo Bay 2.

Whatever the exact point of difference, the butterfly that first beat it wings 117 years earlier and began a series of cascading changes through time and space, in this moment, produced the crucial effect. Commander Tucker upon leaving Sickbay had a choice. Left: to collect the required part from cargo bay 2 in order to repair the relay, that upon blowing out, had caused his most recent encounter with Dr Phlox's menagerie; or right: to the mess hall to take some "medicine for the soul" in a probably futile effort to find relief from the crushing grief of inconsolable loss, the mounting pressure of holding complex machinery together in a hostile and unfathomable environment, the dragging fatigue of sleep deprivation, and the incomprehensible feeling of betrayal by those he trusted most. Faced with a choice between duty and indulgence the Commander's thought process in this timeline took him left towards duty which would immediately result in a certain salvation for the long term health Sub-Commander T'Pol, and later, the lives of 2 starship crews and, perhaps, a piece of the soul of the Captain of the Enterprise.


	2. Chapter 1: Just another normal day

**Chapter 1: Just another normal day**

To say that Commander Tucker was surprised to see Sub-Commander T'Pol in Cargo Bay 2 would have been understating matters considerably. Not because it was unusual for her to be there, as First Officer any number of duties may have brought her there. But because she was crouched over an open container of Trellium-D, an open canister next to her and a piece of the ore in her hand. They had been in the expanse for 6 months now and he thought he'd come to accept that there was nothing predictable or constant within this space. It took seeing his logical Vulcan with a handful of a potent neurotoxin, apparently exposing herself willingly and deliberately, that made him realise three things: 1. he wasn't the only one who felt like he was fighting a losing battle to get out of this space with his sanity intact, 2. he had come to think of her as something constant and predictable when even physics was letting him down 3. and most worryingly, at some point he'd come to think of her as his. It was that final startling point of self revelation that rocked his already unstable world more than any anomaly had ever done.

He experienced a momentary flash of irritation with himself that rendered him speechless for several seconds. He had to acknowledge to himself that it was a rather inconvenient and unlikely direction for his feelings to go. Once he had recovered from his unwelcome epiphany he was able to formulate a coherent sentence to address the shear incongruity of was he was witnessing.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?"

While it was a coherent sentence, he would have been first to admit it was neither eloquent or insightful but it did cut to the heart of the matter. For her part, Sub-Commander T'Pol, who had just exposed herself to a substance that unravelled her ability to suppress her emotions, was awash in a maelstrom of feeling that she lacked even rudimentary experience to categorise. Because, for Trip, if being overwhelmed by emotion was akin to swimming in pounding surf, for the Vulcan First Officer it was more like being caught by Tsunami. So it was, completely over her head and unable to grasp at any of the tenants of her logical and ordered upbringing, that T'Pol of Vulcan did something that no Vulcan of her experience had ever done, and burst into tears.

"Well," thought Trip looking at the crying woman and wishing he hadn't gotten out of bed that morning, "just another shit day in the expanse." It simultaneously occurred to him that that: technically, he hadn't gotten out of bed that morning because he hadn't gone to bed the night before; and that pretty much every day in the expanse was shit which made it a normal one for this place. No, scratch that, it truly was a shit day when your Vulcan sobbed. How the hell did you even comfort a crying Vulcan. He'd stake his life there was nothing in the Vulcan Database about that!

In the end he just sat down next to her, took the chunk of ore out of her hand, put it in the retrieved canister, placed the canister in the crate and closed it. He didn't touch her, but sat as close as he could without coming into contact. After a short while she shifted slightly, leaned into him and placed her head on his shoulder. He, in turn, put his arm around her, pulled her close and let her cry whatever it was out.

It wasn't long before the crying subsided to a couple of shudders and then stillness. Trip expected her to suddenly go full Vulcan on him and act all rigid, and affronted, and logical; and he'd end up feeling illogically guilty. Instead she gave sigh, turned her face to his chest and, if anything, relaxed further into the half circle of his arm. He could feel the cool dampness of her tears through his uniform and the contrasting heat of her body against his side. A strange sense of peace settled over him, as if something he'd spent the past six months seeking, which had seemed even further away since waking from the coma, had suddenly come within touching distance. He manoeuvred them back slightly so he could lean against a crate behind him, dropped his head back and gave himself over to the surprising feeling of rightness that came from holding her in his arms. But there was no real hiding from the fact that this was definitely going to require action of some sort. He just didn't know what.

What Sub-Commander T'Pol was feeling, was a lot more complicated. Mostly because she was feeling it. No longer completely overwhelmed with emotion she tried to identify and address each emotion she was experiencing. She wondered how humans could function at all, let alone competently, with all this manifesting in their heads and bodies. Emotions were so physical. She immediately recognised the bitter taste of shame. It seem to pull inward on her as if she was collapsing in on herself and would disappear. She had experienced it before - somewhat after P'Jem, then Tolaris had fully acquainted her with the feeling. Of course there was also Sim, but she didn't want to think about him so she pushed the thought away. Fear, burned at the base of her lungs like a fire she couldn't run from. Sadness griped at the back of her throat. There were others, some she could recognise but most an enigma. The strongest, she realised, was relief. Which felt like letting go as though she was becoming liquid and flowing away. Relief, strangely, that she had been discovered and whatever it was that she was doing would be stopped. Relief that he was alive. Relief that he was close to her again. Relief that he he was touching her again. Because she hadn't felt his hands on her since the night before the accident and, if she was honest with herself, it was him, the lack of him, the loss of him, the separation from him, that had brought her to Cargo Bay 2 in the first place.

For all the emotions she was experiencing she suddenly noticed that none of them were coming from him. Usually, when she was touching him she was able to sense a cacophony of emotion, that she was always careful not to open herself to, so she was surprised to find him in such a quiet, almost meditative, state. But there was something - unidentifiable, a faint, tapping away at his consciousness. She opened herself and allowed her telepathic senses free reign. She touched it, caught it, pulled it into her. Intrigued, she pushed her her own emotions aside to analyse what he was feeling. She turned it over in her mind, became the scientist she was and pulled it apart until she identified it. Uncertainty - he was trying to decide what he was going to do about her. The full import of her situation occurred to her, she stiffened.

He felt it as soon as she tensed, dropped his arm immediately and pulled away. Fully expecting a devastatingly blunt comment and raised eyebrow, he was somewhat surprised by her question.

"What action are you planning to take?"

The million dollar question. Once the answer would have once been obvious to him. His loyalty unquestionable, his trust absolute. Doubt had slipped in like a thief in the night and it occurred to him it may have taken his closest friend.

She took his silence to represent his indecision; "The logical course of action would be to inform the Captain."

"Yeah," he responded with sigh, "there was a time I would have agreed with that, and done it without hesitation. But..." he looked down to hands dangling over the edge over his bent knees where his forearms rested and started playing with a pilled thread in his jumpsuit. "I don't know… recently, I've started to question his judgement. You know," he kept flicking the the nodule of thread back and forth under his thumb "it's like he's totally focussed on the mission and maybe not so focused on the interests of his crew." He abandoned the thread and put his hands up to his face and rubbed his eyes. "I don't know what you were doing here, but I'm not sure he's the right person to go to about it. Part of me is looking at the ship, and the chain of command and saying 'he's the only person' but, at the same time, shit..." he shook his head and resumed worrying the thread, as if giving voice to his doubts constituted some kind of mutiny. "Part of me is thinking that going to him is not what's best for you and it have wouldn't any real impact on the functioning of the ship if I didn't."

T'Pol felt ill equipped to confront his emotional assessment of the Captain, even with her recent exposure to Trellium, so she fell back on old adages. "Your species is under grave threat, it is logical for the Captain to focus on the needs of the many. The needs of the few are secondary."

"Considering I just found you snuggling up to a neurotoxin, I don't think you're in any position to lecture me about logic!" Trip's anger flared. Didn't anyone think it was wrong. It was like he fell asleep one day and woke up in another universe. A universe where he had to attend what seemed like his own funeral and no one wanted to look him in the eye anymore. "Surely there's got to be some moral and ethical boundary that shouldn't be crossed. Even for the good of the many!"

Sim, of course he was talking about Sim. Nobody mentioned Sim now, especially not to the Commander. The worst thing was, she knew he was right. She hadn't even really objected to the procedure, just suggested to the Captain that it was not considered ethical. She had known it was wrong, that cold logic might be able to justify it, but even logic should be tempered with moral and ethical considerations. She could have pressed harder, truly attempted to persuade the Captain that the clone was not justifiable. She had been swayed by her own self interests, she had wanted Trip to live.

He suddenly stood up, decision made, and indicated that she follow him.

"Are we going to inform the Captain?"

"Nope, we're going to talk to Phlox. I'm calling this a medical matter. Phlox can decide what the hell to tell the Captain."


	3. Chapter 2: Vulcans Do not adapt

**Chapter 2: Vulcans do not adapt.**

"Sub-Commander, why don't you get up on the bio bed. Let's see what we're dealing with shall we." Phlox began scanning immediately. He had noticed a strange dynamic between the two officers as soon as they had entered sickbay and was more than a little intrigued. He looked at the scanner results and raised his eyebrows at Sub-Commander T'Pol.

"It would appear you have recently been exposed to Trellium, Sub-Commander. Care to explain how that came about, hmmm?"

He could tell by her entire bearing that she did not care to explain. Her focus flicked up to a point just over his shoulder. He was well aware that Commander Tucker was standing there, arms folded and posture rigid. Usually he would ask a third party to leave in order to ensure the privacy of the patient but he sensed the Commander knew why she was here and would not be going anywhere until she had explained her condition. Phlox watched as she took a breath and fixed her expression.

"I have been deliberately exposing myself to Trellium." She stated blandly.

Phlox's many years of experience treating patients of a variety of species provided him the discipline to school his expression. Even under the influence of Trellium the Sub-Commander would not respond well to an overt show of emotion. "You are well aware that Trellium is deadly to Vulcans, it eats away at the neural pathways. What motivated you to do something so foolish"

"When I was exposed to trellium aboard the Seleya, although the initial effects were overwhelming as they began to wear off, I discovered I was able to access certain emotions. I later realised it had been a positive experience for me. I was able to meditate less and my interactions with the crew improved."

Phlox watched as she looked to her hands in her lap and, uncharacteristically, began to fidget with the cuffs of her suit. "Go on."

"Recently I was experiencing some... difficulties meditating. Crew morale was sub-optimal and my workload had intensified due to the circumstances we were experiencing at the time." Once again she glanced over Phlox's shoulder to the man standing behind him. "I had less time to devote to meditation and the quality was compromised due to... internal emotional conflict. I reasoned that, as an alternative, Trellium may provide an outlet for emotions I was unable to suppress through meditation. I began to experiment by ingesting small amounts."

Phlox had an idea where all this was heading and had a very strong feeling the Commander was not going to like it one bit. "How long has this been going on Sub-Commander"

With another quick look over his shoulder before she replied. "Three weeks."

A snort of disgust from Commander Tucker drew their attention. "Three weeks, well I don't need to be a doctor or the Science Officer to work out the 'circumstances' that caused your 'internal emotional conflict'. Sim!" Tucker spat the final word like a curse, turned on his heal and departed sickbay.

Phlox watched the departing officer and sighed internally. He was no clairvoyant but he sensed a difficult conversation in his future, which was no less than he deserved.

He turned back to T'Pol who was staring at the sickbay doors with a typically unreadable expression. "I believe the Commander may also have some 'internal emotional conflict' with regard to Sim. But, in fairness, don't we all."

He almost could have chuckled when the Vulcan turned her wide eyed stare towards him. "Now Sub-Commander, I believe you may have 'dodged the bullet', as our human friends would say." He resumed scanning her as he continued. "There are only small amounts of residual Trellium in your system and I am not detecting any permanent damage to your neural pathways. But I think we might just put a stop to self medication, shall we. Perhaps we need to take a look at the circumstances that led you down this path."

He looked at the scanner again, tapping some menus on the screen. "I do notice some fluctuation in your neurolytic enzymes. It looks like we may need to make some slight adjustments to your serum. That could also account for some of your difficulties with meditation." Phlox turned to his cabinets to prepare a hypospray.

"I assume you have also not yet resumed neuro-pressure with the Commander? I believe those sessions are very helpful with both preventing progression of the Pa'nar, and your emotional suppression. I suspect the Trellium may be more of a symptom of a larger problem wouldn't you say?"

T'Pol tipped her head to the side so Phlox could administer the hypospray then returned her attention to her sleeves, which, Phlox mused, must hold data of great scientific import given the attention she was paying them.

"I believe I am ill equipped to cope with the unique conditions of the Expanse." She finally said "I have found it increasingly difficult to suppress emotions as time has gone by. My behaviour would be considered illogical by other Vulcans and they would be right to censure me."

"Yes, well, whether or not that may be true, considering that every other Vulcan that has entered the expanse has died in homicidal psychosis, one would hope the fact you have, thus far, survived with your wits would be considered in your favour." Really, Phlox tried not to judge other species, but Vulcans could be persistent to a fault in their unyielding belief that there was only one logical way to approach any situation.

"You must also consider that the previous record for a Vulcan advisor on a human ship was just two weeks! You have already remained amongst humans for two and a half years, which is no small achievement. Let's not forget that during the last six months, you have been exposed a mutagenic virus, experienced a second brutal telepathic assault, and suffered the effects of a toxin that completely inhibited your ability to suppress your emotions, something which is a cornerstone to your cultural identity. Any one of these events could have proven psychologically crippling to a person of less robust character. You have shown yourself to be a uniquely adaptable example of your species."

"Vulcans do not adapt. When faced with complexity we rely on logic and discipline."

"Yes!" Phlox flashed her one oh his trade mark Denobulin smiles. "And failing that, they retreat or descend into a paranoid, psychotic, homicidal rage. I'll leave to you decide which of your options is the most logical in your current circumstances, Sub-Commander."


	4. Chapter 3: Can Surak fly a shuttle

**Chapter 3: Can Surak fly a shuttle**

Phlox looked up from feeding his creatures as Commander Tucker entered sickbay for the third time that day. Baring further injury, he could think of two reasons the Commander had sought him out again an he anticipated that neither would be easy conversations.

"Commander, are you here on your own behalf or to enquire about the Sub-Commander's condition? Because I should not need to remind you, her consultations with me are protected under Doctor-Patient confidentiality."

"I'm just looking for a little advice Doc." The Commander leaned back against the bench crossed his left leg over his right and folded his arms.

Phlox assessed his posture as reasonably relaxed and continued feeding his creatures. He was relieved to note the Commander's earlier anger seemed to have dissipated. "Well Commander, I only guarantee my advice when it's medically related. Any other topics are at your own risk."

Trip chuckled and shook his head. "I'll take that on advisement Doc."

Phlox watched as the engineer cocked his head to one side, took a deep breath, and stuck his tongue into his cheek. Phlox was more than familiar with this human's various expressions and knew this indicated he was reluctant to broach the subject. "Commander, if it's generic advice you are looking for then I suggest you eat regular, healthy meals and get plenty of sleep. But I very much doubt you took a special trip down to sickbay to hear me repeat myself, so I assume you have a more specific subject you'd like to discuss, hmm?"

"Well Doc, it is about T'Pol..."

"Ahh... what specifically, Commander, keeping in mind my earlier reminder."

"I'm just wondering what the Captain should be told about this." Trip asked baldly

"I see," Phlox looked up at the Commander, "from my perspective, this is a medical matter and, as such, it is between my patient and me It has not had a deleterious effect on the performance of her duties and, now she has been discovered, I am sure she will desist in this course of action. There is no benefit to either, T'Pol or the Captain, to take this matter further than this room."

Trip nodded with, what seemed to Phlox, to be a certain amount of relief but his tongue returned to his cheek.

"Is there something further you wish to discuss, Commander?"

"Thing is, I'm just not sure... I'm just trying to figure out...". Trip took another breath and looked at the Doctor. "What the hell was T'Pol thinking."

Phlox glanced up from his blood worms "I believe she explained her rational earlier" he said, as he resumed feeding the worms. "I am not sure there is any thing further I can add to that, Commander."

"Yeah, I heard her earlier, but... I mean this is Sub-Commander T'Pol, she's pretty much spent the last two and a half years throwing logic at us with her accompanying monotone and raised eyebrow, now suddenly she's… well, she's drugging herself so she can feel. I'm having a little trouble rationalising that with the woman who's spent a couple of years looking down her nose at our emotions - it just seems a little..." Trip paused as he struggled for the right words, "beneath her." he finished.

"It is somewhat unfair, Commander, to hold Sub-Commander T'Pol to a higher standard than yourself don't you think, Mr Tucker?" Phlox decided not pull any punches with the Commander.

He watched as Trip pursed his lips trying, and failing, to follow the Doctors thought processes. "What do you mean by that, Doc?"

"Just that you have not been above using drugs to manage emotions yourself, only in your case it was to avoid them."

Trip lifted himself off the cabinets and went on the defensive. "I know I've been a bit unpredictable over the past few months Doc, but I don't recall ever abusing a mind altering substance."

"Of course you don't Commander, because Sub-Commander T'Pol and I prevented it from happening. What were all those sedatives for, if not to avoid facing the grief you felt over the loss of your sister." Phlox told him baldly.

"Really Commander," Phlox continued "what do imagine would have happened if your access to that medication had not been restricted when your insomnia started to affect you? Had I given you open access, would you have regulated your consumption to prevent 'abuse' and dependancy. Even with my monitoring of your doses, when you began neuro-pressure with the Sub-Commander you were already walking a fine line."

Trip stood for a moment with his mouth hanging open before he was able to gather his wits. "I couldn't sleep." He retorted "You know as well as I do that human's can't function if they can't sleep."

"And Vulcans can not function if they can't meditate." Finished with feeding his various organisms Phlox turned his full attention to his guest. "The thing I find the most interesting about this is that, as an inherently emotional species, humans seem most likely to turn to drugs as a way to escape emotions. It seems our Vulcan, who manages emotions by suppressing them, turned to drugs in order to express them. I wonder if that's significant, don't you Commander?"

Trip chewed on his cheek contemplating Phlox's assessment before answering. "Okay Doc, I'll accept you may be right about my use of the sedatives and we both know why I wanted them, but what's T'Pol struggling with?"

Phlox hesitated before answering, this conversation was getting awfully close to Doctor-Patient confidentiality territory. He had no desire to violate Sub-Commander T'pol's confidence but at the same time he was certain her problems were not going to be solved at the end of a hypo-spray. He hoped, given their recent history, Commander Tucker may be the best person to assist her.

"I suspect in the Sub-Commander's case it is not one single incident, but rather a series events and circumstances that have had a cumulative effect on her. While she came onto the Enterprise supremely confident in Vulcan logic and moral superiority, this confidence has been shaken. She has been forced to question, on several occasions, the decisions made by her government and has found them wanting. In return she has suffered censure by her people."

Phlox knew that Trip was aware of what transpired at P'Jem and would have an inkling of the consequences for the Sub-Commander of that farce. He hoped this knowledge would prevent further enquiries about other 'occasions' as he was fairly certain the Commander did not know details about the attack by Tolaris, her resulting infection with Pa'nar Syndrome and the repercussions regarding her status amongst her people. He had no intention of making any details of the Sub-Commander's condition available to Commander Tucker even though he believed it to be the central issue of her current situation. He continued into areas the Commander was more familiar with.

"The Expanse, while difficult for us all, is uniquely taxing on her Vulcan physiology and she has suffered a number of health crisis' while here, which, by their nature, would have impacted her mental discipline. But she is the only member of her species, living amongst people whose entire philosophy of mental discipline is diametrically opposed to her own. She has no cultural markers or like minded colleagues to fall back on and ground her. She must navigate this space and all its difficulties, essentially, alone. Little wonder that she should misstep - and I think we have all been guilty of that at some time, wouldn't you agree Commander."

He watched as Trip pressed his lips together and nodded contemplatively.

"So how do you help her Doc? Trip asked. "The only other Vulcan's we've encountered in the expanse weren't exactly meditating and quoting Surak, were they?"

"Indeed they were not. Actually Mr Tucker, I think it's a question of what you can do to help her."

"Me, Doc? I'm not certain I'm the best qualified. I mean, repressed emotions and meditation are not exactly my core competencies and, to be honest, I wouldn't know Surak if he ran me down with his shuttle."

Phlox looked at the Commander with raised eyebrows. He couldn't help but think that Mr Tucker was far better at repressing emotions than he gave himself credit for - unfortunately - to the detriment of his health. It was fortuitous that his prescription for the Sub-Commander was one that had already benefited the Chief Engineer and would continue to do so.

"But, on this vessel you are the most qualified practitioner in the art of Vulcan neuro-pressure, with exception of the Sub-Commander of course, but she can hardly apply the method to herself, can she." He said with a smile.

"I'll do what I can Doc," Trip replied, still looking somewhat sceptical. "I'm still not sure I'm the best man for the job so you'd better let me know immediately if Surak does turn up."

"You'll be the first to know Commander," Phlox gave one of his impossibly wide smiles, "particularly if he arrives by shuttle.


	5. Chapter 4: Vulcans do not dream

_Trigger warning: T'Pol and Trip discuss the attack by Tolaris. Touches on issues of consent and sexual assault._

 _This Chapter occurs after the events of the episode "Carpenter Street"_

* * *

 **Chapter 4: Vulcans do not dream**

"So, how did you find Earth in 2004?" Trip asked T'Pol as she manipulated the neural nodes between his shoulders. They had resumed their regular neuro-pressure sessions a week earlier, the day after Trip had found her with the trellium. He had felt awkward at first but he persisted, partly because it really did help him sleep, but mainly because Phlox seemed to think it would benefit her too.

"I am not certain how we found it, we simply walked through the Command Centre door and it was there." T'Pol responded with complete sincerity.

Trip gave a huff of laughter at her literal interpretation of his question. "It's a figure of speech, I'm not asking how you literally "found" Earth, I'm asking what you thought of it." He explained

"That is illogical. Why would you ask how I located it, if you actually wanted to hear my opinions of it?"

"I don't know, T'Pol, it's just an expression." Trip couldn't help but grin to himself, he loved it when he baffled her with the strange vagaries of the English language. It brought out an evil streak in him that was about a mile wide. "Anyway, after you found it, what did you think of it?"

T'Pol, fully aware that Trip took wicked pleasure in confounding her with his use of the vernacular, continued calmly down to next point on his back as she answered. "It was taxing on my senses."

"Taxing?" He also loved that her impressions were so unexpected.

"Yes, the odour was unpleasant and bordered on overwhelming, and the noise was constant, there was barely a quiet moment for the entire time we were there; and it was cold and wet."

"The odour, huh? I guess all those primitive, unwashed humans were a bit hard on your refined, Vulcan nose."

"I did not have contact with a sufficient number of the residents of early 21st century Detroit to determine their general level of cleanliness, although the individual we primarily interacted with did not seem to prioritise hygiene. However, it was the environment itself that I found to be squalid. The use of petrochemical fuelled, combustion engines contributed greatly to the odour, the filth and the noise."

"Yeah, well Detroit was pretty much the US capital of petrochemical fuelled, combustion engines and they were pretty polluting. So I guess you didn't like it much?"

"I neither liked, nor disliked it. Many aspects of the environment were physically unpleasant but I was able tolerate it. She lifted her hands off his back as she answered.

"Sit up, and face me." She instructed.

As he turned to face her he noticed her hands shaking slightly. Once, before had had caught her in the cargo bay, he would have pretended he hadn't seen it, knowing it would have been a gross invasion of her privacy to highlight any possible weakness in her. But now he felt like he had to be hyper-vigilant with her, just in case. He didn't want to miss any signs that she was about to turn into an emotional wreak with a handful of trellium.

"What's wrong with your hands?" He asked baldly. "Why are they shaking?"

T'Pol stared at him wide eyed and resisted the urge to hide her hands behind her back. The polluted environment of 21st Century Detroit had been far more demanding than she had let on to Trip, but she had not expected it to trigger her Pa'nar symptoms. She resolved to see Phlox first thing in the morning.

"I am sure it is just a delayed reaction to the time travel. I will see Phlox in the morning." She prevaricated.

Trip narrowed his eyes and pursed his lips thoughtfully. He had spent enough time around her to know that he had to be finely tuned to her voice and micro expressions. He sensed some ambiguity in her statement and decided to push her further. "The Captain's time travelled before, I've never seen his hands shaking afterwards."

"The Captain is human, I am Vulcan. There is no reason to believe our physiological response would be the same." T'Pol suppressed a surge of annoyance. Usually he would not persist in questioning her on private matters.

"Surely Daniels would have warned us if there was some kind of negative effect on Vulcans." He countered.

"Not necessarily, if the reaction is temporary and not of a serious nature he may have deemed it unnecessary or irrelevant."

"T'Pol," Trip put his hands on his hips, "I can tell you are not giving me the who story here. I think you know exactly what's wrong with you and I not leaving until you tell me."

"Then I suggest you get comfortable, Commander, you will be here for a while."

The Commander Tucker of a month ago would have backed down immediately. But there had been a subtle power shift since he had discovered her trellium use and comforted her through her emotional breakdown. He no longer believed in her total emotional infallibility and, now that he knew the neuro-pressure sessions were as important to her well being as they were to him, he also felt that he had a personal interest in her health. He had started to trust his instincts about her and his instincts were screaming at him there was more than she was letting on. Trip was about to make an emotional appeal when it occurred to him that was pointless because it would mean nothing to her. He had to attempt to appeal to her logic, hopefully without using the word "logic" or any of its derivatives, because he really hated it when she used the word on him.

"Look, I hate invading your privacy but I need you to tell me what's wrong because, as I understand it, you need these neuro-pressure sessions as much as I do, which I figure gives me a stake in your health. I want to trust you, but I took a risk not going to the Captain with the trellium use, I need to be certain that this," he gestured to her hands, "is not related to that." he waved a hand in the direction of the cargo bay and its trellium.

T'Pol saw through his weak attempt immediately. She knew there was no logical reason for him to be informed of her condition. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. She found it difficult to suppress the shame associated with her illness, even though she knew it was illogical. She could not shake the thought that Trip would think less of her if he knew of the circumstances surrounding her contracting of the disease. It was disquieting how much she craved his good opinion. She caught the direction of her thoughts and realised she was letting fear drive her decisions. She remembered how much relief she had felt after he discovered her with the trellium and she cried in his arms. Perhaps if she gave him this as well she could finally manage these rogue emotions. She made her choice and looked him in the eyes.

"Do you remember the V'tosh ka'tur, the Vulcans without logic, we encountered 2 years ago?" She asked.

"The smiling Vulcans, they made quite an impression. I got on pretty well with their engineer, Kov." Trip looked at her intently his memory filling in the blanks. "Wait a minute, you spent some time in Sick Bay about the time that they left. Did you catch some Vulcan illness off them?"

"In a manner of speaking, yes."

It was unlike her to use imprecise language. "In a manner of speaking? What's that supposed to mean?

"There was one individual, with whom I primarily interacted, who appealed to my curiosity about emotions. For a Vulcan, my emotions have always been close to the surface and keeping them suppressed has required more discipline than the average. This individual suggested I experiment with relaxing my discipline to see how it affected me. He initially suggested I forgo my meditation before retiring to bed. I followed his advice and experienced vivid, disturbing dreams - something most Vulcans would not experience."

"Are you saying Vulcans don't have nightmares." Trip interrupted again.

"Vulcans do not dream at all, Commander."

"At all!" He looked at her wide eyed. "Maybe I should start meditating." He muttered under his breath.

"That thought has occurred to me on many occasions." She told him having he picked up his muttered comment without difficulty. "I am sure you would experience greater emotional equilibrium if you were practised in the art. I would be quite willing to instruct you if you are interested."

"Um, yeah, maybe." He replied noncommittally. "So did dreaming make you sick?" He asked, diverting the conversation away from him and his emotions.

She took a deep breath to steady herself. "No, after the dream he was interested in my experience. He suggested something, a way to deepen the experience."

A mysterious disease caught from someone offering a deep experience. Trip had a very sick feeling about where this was heading when T'Pol threw something from left field.

"I am not sure if you are aware that Vulcans are touch telepaths." T'Pol said uncertain how much he knew about Vulcan mental abilities.

"Wait a minute," he interrupted "you can read my mind when you touch me." Trip could feel a blush rising in his face. He was fully aware that, on many occasions during neuro-pressure, his thoughts about her had wandered in a less than pure direction.

"There are some, more talented telepaths than me, who can read thoughts. I, personally, am only able to sense emotions." T'Pol assured him

Trip wasn't sure if that was any better and T'Pol detected his unease immediately.

"As part of our mental discipline Vulcans are taught methods to block thoughts and emotions we may pick up from touch." She assured him. "It is generally considered invasive, and a breach of privacy not to block the psychic emanations of a person who is unrelated to you. This is the reason Vulcans avoid touching others. We do not wish to inadvertently pick up thoughts or feelings we are not entitled to, which is much more likely to occur from casual touch."

"Okay." Trip wasn't sure that it was okay but he didn't want to take her too far off topic. "But what does this have to do with the V'tosh guy."

"There is a method called a mind meld, able to be performed by some Vulcans, in which two people can, through a specific kind of contact, join minds and share thoughts completely. It is considered a deviant practise on Vulcan. Known melders are ostracised from society."

"And he suggested you try it." Trip accurately concluded.

"Yes. It was foolish of me. I allowed my curiosity to influence my decisions.

"Curiosity isn't a bad thing. Surely curiosity makes you a better scientist." Trip looked at her sympathetically. "I take it the meld didn't go well?"

T'Pol held his gaze using all her Vulcan discipline to keep her emotions suppressed. "It did not." She confirmed. "After he began the meld, I quickly became uncomfortable with the procedure and requested he cease immediately. He refused and deepened the meld against my will. It was extremely painful and invasive. A violent psychic intrusion can be quite damaging. I was forced to fight him off, abruptly severing the meld and causing myself further neural injury."

Trip looked at her aghast. When she talked about a "deepened experience" he had immediately assumed sex, and based on her demeanour that some kind of sexual assault had ultimately taken place. Somehow this seemed worse. He considered his own unease when he learned she could sense his emotions. He realised how much worse it would be to have someone forcibly enter your mind, every private thought and feeling laid bare, knowing they were there and having nowhere to hide. "So the shaking hands, that's a result of the damage you suffered?"

"No, Phlox was able to repair my neural injuries." She told him.

"Then what… why…" he indicated her hands not sure how to finish the sentence.

"Regrettably, during this contact he infected me with a disease called Pa'nar Syndrome, which is known to affect melders. It results in the degradation of the synaptic pathways and also affects the endocrine and immune systems. That is the cause of my hand tremors."

"Is there a cure?" He was looking at her with such intensity she found it difficult to return his gaze.

"There is no known cure. Dr Phlox has been very effective at devising treatments to prevent symptoms and slow the degeneration, but it is a terminal illness."

He felt a surge of grief. "You're going to die?" He whispered in horror.

T'Pol's Vulcan nature strained against the question. Of course she was going to die, every living organism dies. She tamped down on the instinct to reply as such. After two and half years amongst humans she had grown accustomed to their imprecise methods of speech. But, she realised, she was also influenced by the look on his face and emotion in his voice. She was somehow touched that he was so affected by the prospect of her death. "Given the current effectiveness of the Doctor's treatment I do not believe my death is imminent, however, I do anticipate my life expectancy has been reduced, it is not possible to determine by how much."

"Who was it? Who did this to you?" His grief had become anger.

T'Pol was always amazed at the ability of humans to transition through emotional states so rapidly. "It is irrelevant. We are not likely to see him or his ship again." She felt an illogical reluctance to speak his name, as if he was a mythical beast that could be summoned by naming him.

"Tolaris. It was Tolaris wasn't it?" The name came to him out of nowhere, he was surprised he could even remember the guy after two years. Her expression confirmed it.

T'Pol took a deep breath. Really, human instincts could be troubling. "As I said, it is irrelevant. I take responsibility for my actions that night. It was my decision to experiment with my emotions and I consented to the meld. This occurred because of decisions I made, I accept that.

The expression Trip gave her was unreadable. "T'Pol, this is not your fault." He told her gently.

He suddenly had a thought about something she had said earlier. "You said earlier your emotions are close to the surface, can other Vulcans see that, could he see that?"

"It is generally apparent to other Vulcans, he noted it early in our interactions."

"And I'm guessing that it's not something that's a highly valued character trait among Vulcans?"

"It is not." She confirmed.

"So he knew this was an aspect of your personality and he would have known it was something that troubled you. He manipulated you, he played to your vulnerabilities and most importantly when you asked him to stop he didn't. Once you withdrew your consent, he had no right to go on." Trip felt he could not emphasise this enough.

"This would not have happened if I had applied my logic and not given the initial consent. I am Vulcan, we do not have vulnerabilities."

"Kind of like you don't have emotions, except that you do." Trip looked at her sitting completely still with her hands resting in her lap. Once upon a time he would have assessed her as being cold and stoic. Now he knew her better he could see the emotions boiling beneath the surface and her struggle to contain them. He felt a crazy urge to comfort her. Had she been human he would have hugged her or put an arm around her. But she was Vulcan and he knew that would only make her more uncomfortable. Trip looked down at her hands. He still felt compelled to comfort her with touch somehow, so, against all reason, he reached out and took her hand. To his surprise she didn't flinch or pull away.

"You know every person who's ever been the victim of a crime could look back and say, I f hadn't done 'that', then 'this' would never have happened. When I was at the academy I got my PADD stolen. I was studying in a cafe and a friend came over and started talking to me. I was only distracted for five minutes but during that time someone walked past and lifted my PADD from the table and took it. No one ever blamed me or said it was my fault. Sure if I hadn't taken my attention off it, if I had held on to it while I talked, it would never have been taken."

He swallowed and looked away from her briefly "My parents could say if they hadn't moved to Florida when we were kids, that my sister would still be alive." He told her quietly.

"You know, we have a saying on Earth, 'hindsight is 20/20'. It's easy look back, knowing how things have turned out, and identify what you should have done to prevent it. But we can't look into the future and know exactly where your decisions are going lead. Sometimes we put our trust in the wrong people, sometimes the actions of strangers surprise us, sometimes we stick our hands in a box of pebbles and get pregnant." He gave the last example with a gentle smile.

T'Pol's eyes widened. She hadn't thought of the Zyrillians for a long time. She had never considered what happened to him in terms of consent. "I was very hard on you about your encounter with the Zyrillians and your resulting pregnancy." She admitted quietly.

"Yeah, you were. But in those days you didn't make mistakes. You've come a long way since then." He gave her hand a gentle squeeze to show he was teasing her.

T'Pol looked down at their joined hands and realised she had not put her mental barriers up. She was surprised by how soothing his emotions were. What he was feeling for her was like a balm, kindness, care, worry, but they were not overwhelming as she would have expected. They were such soft emotions, like being wrapped in a warm blanket. She was struck by the unexpected urge to crawl into his lap and let him hold her like a child. The tumultuous emotions brought on by her attack, that she had always struggled to control, had eased. It occurred to her that this was how humans processed their emotions, they felt them, analysed them, talked about them and then let them go. They were, she realised, lucky that way.

"Now," he said as he squeezed her hand again. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but it occurs to me that the reason Phlox was so keen to get the neuro-pressure sessions going again is because it helps with the Pa'nar."

"That is correct."

"Well, lie face down then and let's get started. I think, considering you spent several hours taking a whirlwind tour of the hot spots of Detroit, then came back and did a full shift, that you have literally had a very long day. Let's complete your neuro-pressure, you can get some sleep and then go see Phlox in the morning."

He let go of her hand as he spoke and she almost reached out and grabbed his hand back. A strange sensation overcame her, almost as if her mind was reaching out to him, seeking the emotional connection again. She mentally shook off the feeling and lay down so he could begin.

He was a natural practitioner of neuro-pressure. His ability to visualise a piece of equipment and mentally break it down to its constituent parts extended to organic bodies. She almost never had to guide him to a point twice and once he found the correct pressure was able to replicate it in subsequent sessions. As he worked down her back she relished in his ministrations feeling the release of tension and healing as he worked.

She thought back to his unconcealed discomfort when he learned of her telepathic skills. She knew that he had felt some embarrassment over the arousal he often experienced during their sessions. She had decided that it was prudent not to inform him that she had always been aware of it due to the pheromone component of human libido and her enhanced sense of smell. She had long ago concluded that she was considered an attractive female by human standards and, as such, Trip was not the only male on board, or female for that matter, who had displayed signs of attraction to her. She had sufficient knowledge of humans to know that arousal was a physiological response to stimuli that did not indicate an emotional attachment and, thus, had always ignored it.

By contrast to his raw desire, she reflected on the emotions she had sensed from him as he held her hand and, for the first time since she had begun the sessions with him, she dropped her psychic barriers and opened herself to him. All the feelings she had detected from him earlier, once again flowed into her through his fingers. She felt his concern, compassion, care, even quiet grief on her behalf, but also his affection and regard. Bathed in his gentle emotions and lulled to sleep by his firm hands, she couldn't help but wonder if this was what it felt like to be loved.


	6. Chapter 5: Hindsight is not 2020

_This chapter is set immediately after the events of the episode 'Chosen Realm'. I needed a reason to get Trip into sickbay so I am writing it as though he suffered a minor injury during the skirmish with the other ships during the episode._

* * *

 **Chapter 5: Hindsight is not 20/20**

"Well here we are again, Commander." Phlox said as he ran the dermal regenerator over the burn on Trip's arm. "I'm starting to wonder if you spend more time here than I do."

"Truly not my fault this time, Doc. God save us from religious zealots, that's all I can say."

"Indeed, Mr Tucker." Phlox gave him a assessing gaze. "How are you managing your fatigue, Commander?"

"If you're asking how I'm sleeping, Doc, I'm doing pretty well at the moment. T'Pol and I are doing the neuro-pressure sessions most nights now. I think I'm sleeping better than I ever have."

"Most nights! Why the increase in frequency, I did not believe your need was so great?"

Trip stuck his tongue into his cheek and looked at the Doctor. "It's not so much for my benefit." He said quietly. "T'Pol told me about her Pa'nar."

"I see. I am surprised she confided in you. It speaks a great deal about your relationship with her."

"Yeah, well, I saw her hands shaking after the whole time travel thing and I kind of bullied her into telling me."

Phlox raised his eyebrows. "I think you should remember that the Sub-Commander is not so easily intimidated. I would imagine if she told you, it's because she saw some logic in disclosing the information to you."

"I don't know about that, Doc. I wasn't exactly detecting a vein of pure logic in her when she talked about the attack."

"Ahh, regret is a complex emotion, is it not, one that does not respond well to logic."

"Yeah, I told her that hindsight is 20/20. That it's easy to look back and see the right choice once something has happened."

"Huh, an interesting concept." Phlox lifted the dermal regenerated and looker thoughtfully into space. "Of course, it's quite inaccurate." He said as he resumed the treatment.

"What, how so?" Trip looked at him, incredulous.

"When you reflect on your choices you only see the outcome of the decisions you made. There is no way to determine exactly what the results would have been had you pursued the other options - one can only speculate."

Phlox continued, getting into his subject. "In particular we have to take into account the fact that single choices do not necessarily lead to single outcomes. There can be multiple results from one action, some positive, some negative. That's why regret is so complex. It is hard to conceptualise that, when you wish away a decision that caused a negative outcome, you are also wishing away any positive ones. Phlox turned off the dermal regenerator and placed it on the tray next to him. He turned back with an expression that Trip could only describe as, sad.

Phlox crossed his hands in front of him and looked down at Trip "Sometimes it is not even the outcomes of a decision that are regrettable. It is possible to miscalculate the ethical implications of a decision. That can complicate regret even more. It may be that the final outcome was largely as expected and desired but the morality of the decision became more complicated as more information came to light."

Trip got the feeling the Doctor was not talking about generalities but had a specific case in mind. "Would Sim be a good example of that, Doc?" He asked quietly.

"Indeed he would, Commander." As he spoke he picked up a hypospray and pressed it into Trip's neck. "A mild analgesic, which should take care of any residual nerve pain." He told Trip.

Trip chewed on his cheek, not sure if he wanted the answer to his next question. "Do you regret the creation of Sim?"

"It's not as straight forward as either regretting it, or not. I am quite fond of you, you are, after all, one of my best customers." He gave Trip a smile as he said it to let him know he was teasing. "It would be difficult, if not impossible, to regret your survival. Had we chosen not to sacrifice Sim, you would have both have been dead for several weeks now, I quite simply can not see that as being preferable."

"When I proposed the use of the Lyssarrian Desert Larvae I did not anticipate that the resulting clone would have all your memories. I also did not foresee that the clone would have minor physiological differences to you that would result in the tissue harvesting procedure being fatal. Once those issues came to light, the creation of Sim to save you, became much more ethically questionable.

Trip pursed his lips and cant his head. "So if you could do it all again, you wouldn't?"

"Ahh, that's where it gets even more complex. If similar circumstances were to occur, knowing what I know now, that the memetic clone is more fragile and has all the memories of the parent organism, I would not go ahead. But Sim did exist, he was an individual, very similar to you of course, but not exactly the same. To go back in time and prevent his creation, for instance, would be to deny him his existence."

Trip pressed his lips together and let out a deep breath. "But you still went ahead with procedure, knowing it would kill him."

"Given the importance of our mission the Captain made a decision based on utilitarian arguments: the importance of your skills to the mission and your life expectancy versus Sim's. The decision to proceed with the transplant was not one Captain Archer or I took lightly. Nor is it one that does not weigh on us in hindsight. But in the end you saved yourself, Commander, and us."

"What do you mean?"

Phlox put his hand on Trip's shoulder. "You are, Mr Tucker, the type of man who would willingly give his life to save his family, friends and colleagues. Because Sim was, in most respects, you, he made exactly the same choice you would have made, to die for those he loved. I can, and do, grieve his death - and my part in it, but to regret his life would diminish his sacrifice."


	7. Chapter 6: How to kill your MACO rival

_This chapter takes place during the episode Harbinger. After T'Pol finds out about the neuro-pressure sessions between Trip and Corporal Cole, has given Cpl Cole, and the MACO training sessions. It it my AU version of the neuro-pressure scene between T'Pol and Trip - yes_ that _scene. It is very different to cannon. Remember T'Pol Does not experience emotions so I have tried to portray her 'jealousy' in a Vulcan way. I'm not sure how I feel about this chapter. I'm just not certain I have the voices of the characters right and I'm not sure if I've gotten Trip's 'head voice' and emotions on point either. Let me know what you think._

 _I have no skills at or knowledge of fighting with weapons or hand-to-hand combat so if my writing there seams improbable it's because I'm completely making it up!_

 _Trigger warner: portrays imagined scenes of hand to hand contact resulting in the death of a character._

* * *

 **Chapter 6: How to kill your MACO rival**

Abandoning her efforts to reach a deep meditative state, T'Pol opened her eyes and regarded the man sitting opposite her. Despite his initial ambivalence, she had begun instructing him in the art of meditation a month before and T'Pol had been quite impressed with his progress so far.

Initially he had struggled to relax and disengage his mind enough to reach even a rudimentary meditative state. It had been a trying few weeks as his constant, shifting, sighing and fidgeting had disturbed her meditation, necessitating that she apply extra time to her discipline in the mornings. After a couple of weeks of frustration, for both of them, he had suddenly hit on a method to achieve the required mental state and since then had improved exponentially.

They had over the past few weeks established a nightly routine, as their duties allowed. He would join her in her quarters for meditation, then they would perform neuro-pressure on each other and finally retire to their own quarters for sleep. It had been, for T'Pol, a period of great equanimity. Her discovery that Commander Tucker had been engaging in neuro-pressure with Corporal Amanda Cole had disrupted her finely tuned balance.

T'Pol looked down at her hands and considered the MACO. Corporal Cole had made it abundantly clear during their neuro-pressure session that she found Commander Tucker attractive and wished to initiate sexual relations with him. Logically, T'Pol could see that they would be compatible mates for each other, both young, fit, healthy, attractive, personable... human.

T'Pol reflected that she had misread human emotions again. She had believed that a strong connection had been been growing between her and Commander Tucker. That his meditation and the neuro-pressure were giving him an understanding of her and her culture and that there was an emotional component to his regard for her that was significant and indicative of a desire for a more intimate connection. It was disquieting to find that he had not hesitated to share that experience with another woman. It seemed to suggest toT'Pol that, while he did have affection for her, it was not remarkable. She reflected on Sim's confession of his feelings for her and his uncertainty if they were his or Commander Tucker's. Perhaps this indicated they were Sim's feelings all along and she had miscalculated greatly. Maybe this was just his human nature. His affections, like his emotions could be fleeting and changeable.

It was logical that she discuss this with Commander Tucker. If he wished to pursue a sexual relationship with Corporal Cole it was likely that any neuro-pressure sessions between herself and the Commander would have to end. She was certain a woman would not consent to her mate engaging in such an intimate practice with another female. That, of course, would have implications for the management of her Pa'nar syndrome, but surely Phlox could compensate with pharmaceuticals. There may even be some logic to neuro-pressure instruction for Commander Tucker and Corporal Cole together, thus allowing her continued access to the beneficial treatment without compromising the humans' intimate relationship.

The second that final thought passed through her mind she was overcome with a sensation of violent nausea. Her physical response troubled her. She considered the earlier MACO training session. In light of the revelation from Phlox that the Commander had been providing neuro-pressure to Corporal Cole, she had tried to surreptitiously observe their interactions looking for indications of an intimate relationship. Instead she had begun to study the Corporal's fighting style, looking for weaknesses in her stance, strength, movements and attention. It suddenly occurred to T'Pol that, as she had watched the other woman sparring, she had been formulating a strategy; a strategy to defeat her rival in a fight to the death.

T'Pol took a sharp breath in as she realised the implications of her reflections. She now knew that regardless of Commander Tucker's feelings or desires for her, that her intentions towards him were clear. Logic could no longer be relied on to dictate her behaviour, she would need to seek clarity immediately. She lifted her head to find herself looking into the smiling blue eyes of the man she considered to be her mate.

Trip had emerged from his state of meditation at the sound of a quick intake breath from T'Pol. He had been pretty reluctant to start meditating not being the kind of guy who just liked to sit and do nothing. Truth be told the first couple of weeks had been agonising. Sitting for what seemed like hours, staring at a candle, trying to enter some kind of mental state he couldn't quite conceptualise. He'd found it impossible to keep still, to prevent his mind from engaging with work problems, and going through to-do lists. He'd pretty much decided to give up when he accidentally hit on a method to enter the meditative state using the pulse of the warp drive.

Using that method he had found it easier and easier to enter the desired state. After a couple of weeks of practicing, he had to admit he enjoyed the sense of calm he got from it. He could also see the benefits for his sleep. On the few nights he and T'Pol had not been able to schedule a session, he had meditated alone and not been plagued by the dreams. He much preferred to meditate with her though. He was amazed by how in tune with her he felt when they meditated together. It was almost as if he could feel her mind along side his. Which is how he knew she was struggling to reach the required mental state this particular night.

"What's on your mind?" He asked, curious about what could be troubling her so much it interrupted her meditation.

"I am questioning the wisdom of continuing these sessions." She responded without preamble.

"You are, why?" Trip felt as though the ground had dropped out from beneath him. He had come to rely on these sessions with T'Pol. He looked forward to the few hours he got to spend with her every day. It wasn't just the neuro-pressure or meditation, it was her. The connection he felt to her, both mental and physical during this time was profound. Something about being in proximity to her made him feel... better, happier, more relaxed... he could never quite figure out what it was, just that he wanted it.

"You seem to be forming an intimate connection with Corporal Cole. I do not wish our time spent together to interfere with any potential relationship with her."

What the hell! Trip was aghast. "Um, it's very considerate of you to be looking out for my hypothetical fledgling relationship with Amanda, but I don't have any interest in her, beyond friendship."

"She has indicated that she would be interested in mating with you, and you have performed neuro-pressure on her."

Trip gave a cough of laughter "Mating! I bet she phrased it just like that. Look, we just got talking about stuff, home, people we knew, that kind of thing. She asked about the neuro-pressure and I suggested she give it a try. I only wanted to show her how great it was. I didn't have any idea she was into me until she kissed me."

"You kissed?" T'Pol thought about her observations of Corporal Cole's fighting style. She had noted that when the Corporal completed a particular attack sequence, she dropped her defences for a brief period and looked up slightly, exposing her neck. T'Pol had seen that this would offer a perfect opportunity to deliver a decisive blow, or perhaps a kick, to the Corporal's throat. Vulcans were significantly stronger than humans and T'Pol knew she had sufficient strength, that with the correct hit, she could crush the younger woman's trachea, restricting her airflow such that, without immediate medical treatment, it would result in certain death.

Trip laughed, completely unaware of the direction that T'Pol's thoughts were heading. "I wouldn't say we kissed, I would say she kissed me." Trip had been totally taken by surprise when Amanda had kissed him. He had genuinely suggested the neuro-pressure session to demonstrate the medical benefits of the practice and show that it was completely innocent. He felt like a bit of an idiot that he hadn't noticed Amanda's obvious interest in him. Usually he wasn't so clueless about women.

"I'm not sure I understand the difference." She stated thinking about a series of attacks Cole liked to make that ended with her turned slightly sideways to her opponent. T'Pol theorised That it would be quite feasible to faint an movement, causing Cole to open herself up further. T'Pol knew from her study of human anatomy that a sharp blow the kidney area, with the blade of the hand, could catch a large nerve, close to the skin, causing death.

"Believe me, there's a big difference." He told her

"Did you pull away when she kissed you?" Perhaps, T'Pol considered, it would be best to use a series of manoeuvres designed to get the attacker behind the opponent. She was confident Cole would not be familiar with the Suus Mahna technique she was thinking of. Once behind her, it would be a simple matter of grabbing Cole's head and twisting suddenly, the violent jerk would be powerful enough to separate vertebrate, severing the spinal cord. Death would be instantaneous.

Trip snorted with uncomfortable laughter, he couldn't believe he was having this conversation. "That would have been kind of rude, and would have insulted her unnecessarily. I just let her kiss me. Trust me, I won't be giving her the opportunity to do it again." He was actually quite glad that T'Pol had stepped in and put a stop to any more sessions with Amanda. He liked Amanda and, from a completely dispassionate perspective, could see that she was attractive. But what he felt for the woman in front of him, made Amanda seem like like a cardboard cutout of a person by comparison.

"I would argue that if you did not terminate the kiss, then you participated in it. Even if it was passively." T'Pol considered the possibility of armed combat. The challenge was usually fought with a lirpa, but she knew Cole would have no experience with a Vulcan weapon. Honour dictated that they use a blade both combatants were familiar with. A knife seemed the best option. T'Pol knew Cole carried one into conflict situations so she must have training. T'Pol was confident in her knife skills and felt her greater strength would give her the advantage.

He laughed. "Have you ever even been kissed? I'm not sure you're qualified to make that assessment."

"I have experienced a kiss." She stated plainly, her combat plans put aside for now.

"Really?" He was intrigued. "Did you kiss him back?"

"I was the one who initiated the kiss."

Trip felt a knot in his throat. Here he was hoping that she was starting to see him as something more than just an emotional human and thinking that there was no one else in her life with even close to the intimacy he had with her, meanwhile she's off kissing other guys. "Who was it?"

T'Pol was quite sure that he would not be happy if she told him who. She was well aware that his feelings towards the clone were conflicted at best and antagonistic at worst. "It is immaterial who it was, I was simply pointing out that I do have experience."

Trip narrowed his eyes and pursed his lips. He got the strong impression it was someone he knew or she would just tell him. It was most likely a human, as far as he understood it, Vulcans didn't kiss. So that meant it was probably someone on Enterprise. Trip felt a stir of jealousy form in his stomach as he mentally reviewed the candidates. He dismissed Malcolm, he was pretty certain the Lieutenant would have not been able to resist telling him if something like that had happened. Phlox just seemed unlikely. The Captain was the only other real candidate on board and there was a certain closeness between the two. "Was it" Captain Archer?"

T'Pol's eyes widened "It would be extremely inappropriate for me to engage in intimate contact with the captain of my vessel." She told him curtly

She'd actually seemed offended by that suggestion, so that ruled out the Captain. Trip's relief was palatable. But who did that leave. The answer came to him with a sick kind of hollow feeling that made him wish it had been the Captain. "It was Sim, wasn't it?"

She was beginning to wonder if Commander Tucker may have some latent telepathic skills. "As I said, it is immaterial who it was. Sim is dead, anything that occurred between us is in the past and I consider it private."

Trip stood up and walked to the window, looking out at the distorted stars. He had never been able to shake the feeling that if all things had been equal between him and the clone, then he would have been taking a free ride in a torpedo casing. He couldn't help but think that Sim had been somehow more than him, better in some undefinable way. As if Sim got Trip's whole life and added something to it, improved it. He noted bitterly that he'd spent two and a half years getting to know T'Pol and hadn't seemed to have reached a higher status than 'slightly annoying friend', whereas Sim had only known her for a week and managed to get her to kiss him.

He turned to find she was standing behind him. "You know as far as I'm concerned the guy seemed to have had a copy of my body, my mind and my memories. He seemed to just slip into my life without too much trouble at all. Seeing as it was my life he was living, I'd like to know how he ended up kissing you in it." He found it so difficult to rationalise his relief at being alive with the feelings of disquiet he had about the existence of another person who knew his whole life.

T'Pol's eyes flicked sideways in an unusual show of discomfort. "You must remember that this is when my experiments with the trellium began. I was experiencing emotions in a way I was not accustomed to."

"I see, I'd be fascinated to learn what emotion you were experiencing that compelled you to kiss him?" He asked bitterly.

"I believe it was guilt." She said quietly. "I imagine the entire crew felt guilty about his situation."

"Is that right? Did the whole crew kiss him as well, or was your guilt special somehow?" He spat sarcastically.

"I doubt the entire crew kissed him, his entire life only lasted a week, his adulthood only a few days, I imagine there was not time for him to engage in that many interpersonal interactions." She told him.

"You think?" He was often amazed when she took sarcasm so literally, it's not like she wasn't above using it herself. "Well let's forget about the rest of the crew then and talk about your particular 'interpersonal interactions' with him."

"He admitted to me that he had feelings for me but was not sure if they were his or yours."

Well that's perfect, thought Trip. Isn't it always the way, you're brain dead in a coma for one week and your clone starts blabbing to the ship's Vulcan about how you're in love with her. "So that's all it takes to get a Vulcan to kiss someone? I wouldn't let that kind of information get out if I were you. You'll never get any work done you'll be getting so many declarations of love."

This time T'Pol recognised his sarcasm at once and ignored it. "I kissed him because I wanted him to have an experience of happiness that was his own. To compensate for what he was giving us, for what he was giving me, by sacrificing his life. I experienced guilt because it was wrong from an ethical perspective, to create a sentient being with the intention of harvesting his tissue to save another person's life. That wrong was further compounded when the afore mentioned sentient being was required to complete the tissue harvesting procedure even though it would result in his death."

"You felt guilty because he existed?" Trip couldn't quite grasp what she was telling him.

"No, I experienced guilt because I did nothing to prevent his creation, or his premature death despite the fact that I had profound questions about the ethics of both."

Trip pursed his lips "So why didn't you do anything about it then if you thought it was so wrong?"

T'Pol looked at him and blinked several times. "Because I wanted you to live. Because I found I could not envision my life without you in it." She said plainly.

Trip was overcome by strange feeling, almost like he was falling and drowning at the same time. He took a deep breath and decided to put himself on the line. "You know, I have no interest in Amanda Cole at all and those feelings Sim told you about, they were mine."

They both stood for a moment, facing each other, neither quite sure how to progress from there. Trip wasn't certain, but he kind of felt like she'd just told him that her feelings were far more than platonic. If she were human, he would just kiss her and see where it went from there. But she wasn't human and he'd always had the thought in his mind when they discussed emotional matters that they were talking past each other. He was fully aware that if he made an unwelcome move on her she could break one of his limbs, or worse. He didn't even want to imagine explaining that to the Captain. He looked at her, so beautiful, so contained and oh so difficult to read. Fuck it, he thought stepping towards her, someone has to make a move and fortune favours the brave.

He closed the distance between them, put his hand at the base of her head, mentally braced himself for any forthcoming violence, and kissed her.


	8. Chapter 7: Vulcan sex education

_A little bit of smut - the continuation from the last chapter. This is the main reason for the M rating. Not sure if M was necessary but decided to err on the side of caution._

* * *

 **Chapter 7: Vulcan Sex Education**

The sudden pressure of his lips against hers had been like a bolt of lightening. She didn't even pause for a moment to consider how alien the act was to her. Her arms immediately went around his neck pulling him close to her, pressing her body and mouth against him. She felt his arm shift down around her back , his other arm go around her waist his hand sliding up under her top, caressing the bare skin on her back, moulding her to him and deepening the kiss.

She felt a desperate need to feel his bare skin against hers, sliding her hands down his chest to the bottom of his shirt, she gripped the hem and slid it up his torso. Through the kiss she could feel his surprise at her forthrightness. He adapted quickly and moved his hands to the buttons of her shirt, making short work of them and sliding the top of her shoulders. They broke the kiss only to get his shirt over his head, then pulled each other close again, his bare chest pressed against her breasts. He manoeuvred her round, walking her towards the edge of the bed while they divested each other of the rest of their clothes.

As he guided her to the bed the weight of his body coming down on hers. He felt compelled to check, to get verbal confirmation that this was what she wanted, to give her a chance to back out if things had moved too fast. He pulled his mouth away from hers, cupped a hand over her cheek and looked into her eyes. "Are you sure about this?" He asked.

She copied his gesture, cupping the side of his face, gazing deep into his eyes. "Yes." she whispered, lifting her head from the pillow to resume the kiss. "Yes." she breathed against his mouth.

Despite a marked lack of experience, she had not come into this completely ignorant. She was, by her nature, the kind of person who would study, learn, prepare. She did not like to think of herself as narrow minded but her investigations into human sexuality had left her faintly repulsed. The act of kissing alone, messy and unhygienic. Although the simple kiss she had shared with Sim had not proved to be unpleasant she had not felt compelled to repeat it.

But nothing could have prepared her for this. She couldn't help but think of the dry mechanical nature of Vulcan sex education and how it contrasted with this reality. She was alive with sensation. He was an adventurer, her body an uncharted expanse. He explored her thoroughly, tongue circling her ear, stubble grazing across her neck, mouth on her breast, fingers smoothing across her ribs and stomach. Each place he touched lit up as though he was trailing fire over her skin. She felt compelled to learn him in the same way. To taste, to stroke, to squeeze, to nip. She could not imagine waiting another 7 years to experience this.

When his mouth returned to hers, she welcomed his tongue and gave him her own. One hand behind his head, fingers sifting through his hair. She felt a tightness building in her stomach as though he was winding her like a clockwork toy. His hand slid between her legs and she gasped into his mouth at the intensity of the sensation. She felt him smile against her lips at her reaction, as he continued to stroke her most sensitive of places. She arched back her head, lips parted, eyes half closed as he wound her tighter and tighter.

He began to move down her body trailing his lips over her skin, lapping his tongue into her belly button. She whimpered when he moved his hand away only to gasp again when his mouth replaced his fingers. She could feel the pressure building, her breath coming in short pants, her hands tangled in his hair, her hips tipping towards his mouth. It was too much and not enough. The release when it came, seemed to ripple through her body like a wave. Her hands dropped limply to her sides, her back arched, a soft moan drawn from her lips. Afterwards she lay for a while, eyes closed, and focused on the reaction of her body, her heart pounding against her ribs, a faint buzzing in her head, the muscles twitching in her pelvis.

When she opened her eyes he was looking down at her with a self satisfied smile. It surprised her that he was so invested in her pleasure. Young Vulcans were prepared for the selfishness of Pon Farr, the driving need that must be satisfied at any cost. The requirements of the partner were nothing in the face of the desire for one's own completion. She relished in the generosity of human sex. She drew his head to hers claiming his mouth. Thanking him with her lips and tongue and hands for the gift he had given her.

As he lay down against her body, she felt his hardness press against her sensitised core. A new need began to build in her. She bent her legs and angled her pelvis to bring the him fully against her. He moved against her causing her breath to quicken and her hips to lift compulsively. He dropped his forehead to her shoulder as they rubbed against each other.

"God, T'Pol" he muttered into her skin.

"Trip, please." She begged in response. Not knowing exactly she was asking for, only that he could provide it.

But he knew what she wanted, he wanted it too, so he gave it to her gladly, and it was exquisite.


	9. Chter 8: Perfect Miscommunication

Chapter 8: Perfect Miscommunication

Afterwards they lay together, bodies slick with sweat, legs entangled, each lost, for a moment, in their own thoughts. Trip lay on his back, with T'Pol pressed against his side, head against his chest listening to his decelerating heart rate. His left arm curled loosely around her back, the tips of his fingers tracing random patterns along her spine. Her arm lay across his chest her fingers combing through the hair on his chest.

T'Pol was surprised by the all encompassing sense of calm she was experiencing. It was as if the rogue emotions she had been unable to suppress for so long, many of which had centred around this fascinating, perplexing, frustrating, human male, had been released. She felt a return to equilibrium and realised this was what she had been trying to achieve from her foolish experiment with the trellium. It was as if a pressure valve of emotion had been building in her for months, perhaps even years and it had finally been released by him, in one impeccable, blinding moment of pure feeling.

She realised, with perfect indifference, that her people would not understand. They would see her actions as emotional and illogical. But when it came to him an emotional decision was logical. They had given themselves to each other and she had no intention of ever giving him back.

For his part, Trip was trying to make sense of a new reality. The early period of their relationship had been characterised by a strange kind of hostile attraction. If they had sought each other out, it was only to test the other's patience. The crew had been endlessly entertained by the 'no retreat, no surrender' nature of their arguments. He had been amused by her perplexity at humans and their customs and taken every opportunity to confound her with his colourful use of idiom. She had been astonished by the rampant emotionality he took to every task, despite the evidence of a fine, logical mind.

They had slowly come to appreciate their differences. He had found he relied on her ability to reduce a problem to its basic components, her calm in the face of any storm. She had learned to trust his instincts, to accept that his emotions were a part of his intelligence, which allowed him to find solutions where logic alone would have faltered. They had moved from being adversaries, to colleagues, to friends and now to this.

He was uncertain what it would mean to her, how she would react. It was, by its nature, an emotional act and she was a creature who denied feeling. He did not know how to navigate the new parameters of their relationship. Their's was a friendship that, up to now, had evolved organically, logically, she would say. This felt like they had jumped too many steps ahead, crossed a bridge and burned it behind them. It was not a situation that could be left to lie, to fester in different expectations and understandings. About this, they needed to talk, frankly, openly, honestly. Someone needed to start the conversation, he took a breath and stepped into the breach.

"So, does this mean we're married on Vulcan?" He quipped. Dammit, he was an idiot. He shut his eyes and gave himself a mental facepalm. It was too flippant, she was a literal creature that did not respond well to humour.

T'Pol lifted herself on his chest and looked at him "Vulcans do not engage in casual sexual relationships." She responded evenly.

Shit, thought Trip, did that mean they were married. "So... we are married?"

"No, marriage on Vulcan, as on Earth, requires a formal, legal ceremony. I simply did not want you to think that sexual intercourse is something I would engage in heedlessly."

Right, they weren't married but it wasn't casual so what did that mean.

"Okay, so we're in a relationship then?" He could feel his heart pounding. Was it nervousness he wondered? No, anticipation. He got the feeling she was about to hand him everything he wanted. God, he hoped he didn't fuck it up. Perfect miscommunication was a hallmark of their relationship.

She narrowed her eyebrows in confusion. "We already had a relationship, we were, and still are, colleagues and, I believe, friends."

"Yes, of course we were... I mean are. By that definition you could say you have a relationship with everyone on this ship. But, when people say they are in a relationship, it generally means an exclusive, sexual relationship."

She pondered his statement briefly. Humans were so imprecise in their use of language "Obviously our relationship is sexual, we just had intercourse. I have already stated that I would not engage in casual sexual relationships, which implies exclusivity on my part."

For crying down the sink, how did she manage to turn a simple conversation into a verbal minefield. It was like they needed a lawyer to to draft up a 100 page contract defining the exact parameters of their relationship. He picked apart what she had just said. It looked good so far, from his perspective. If he was reading her right, she was basically saying she was his girlfriend. "Okay, So we're dating then."

She tipped her head to one side. "Dating implies going on social or romantic appointments or engagements. We live on a starship in deep space. There is nowhere for us to engage in such activities. Except movie night, which generally I attend with you anyway, if I elect to go, or dinner and we already eat many of our meals together."

Trip was banging his head against the imaginary walls of his mental room. Was she being deliberately obtuse. "Look, I'm just trying to determine the exact nature of our relationship, in light of... um... recent activities. Like it or not, sex changes things. I don't want to head out there thinking our relationship is one thing and you thinking it's something else and then have everything blow apart because of our different expectations." Trip was on a roll. "I mean, if this doesn't work out between us we'd still have to see each other, and work together everyday and it would feel awkward."

A hint of puzzlement crossed T'Pol's features. "I would not feel awkward, I do not experience feelings of awkwardness. It would be illogical to allow our personal relationship to affect the performance of our duties."

Wouldn't it just. Trip punched a hypothetical pillow in his mental room. He couldn't shake the feeling she was doing this just to frustrate him. "Well I probably would feel awkward, because I'm human and, I have to say, I'm experiencing feelings of awkwardness right now!"

T'Pol put on her 'thoughtful' expression again "Why would you feel awkward about this conversation? You are right that we should openly discuss our expectations given the changed parameters of our relationship and the cultural differences that inform our expectations. It is a logical undertaking in the circumstances."

Wait a minute, did she just say he was behaving logically? Before Trip could process that tidbit. T'Pol latched onto something he had said earlier. "What do mean by the statement 'if this doesn't work out'. Do you envision that our relationship could be temporary?"

Boom! Trip got the distinct impression he'd just hit a Vulcan mine. "No, of course not! Nobody goes into a relationship expecting it to fail. But we're two different people, hell we're two different species. There are just no guarantees, once we get to know each other, that things will work out long term."

"I believe we already know each other. We have spent the past two years, eight months and eleven days 'getting to know each other'."

"Wow, you counted the days?"

"Indeed, Commander, I believe sometimes it was the only thing getting me through them." T'Pol responded dryly.

Trip gave a guffaw of laughter. Was that a joke, did she just make a joke? She was full of surprises tonight.

"Trip, I am aware that our cultural differences will complicate our relationship, but I would not have engaged in sexual relations with you if I did not believe we could sustain an intimate connection for the rest of our lives."

'An intimate connection for the rest of our lives' he turned the statement over in his head. He pondered her earlier statement, she was right they did know each other. In fact, he felt like she knew him better than anyone. Oddly, it was as though the first things they had identified about each other were the things that annoyed them the most and they had managed to work past them to find what valued in each other. His relationships had never run this course before. Usually sex and infatuation came early in the process. Then as things progressed he would learn more about his partner, find all the little things that he liked about her and, more significantly, that annoyed him. But it was never sex that ended a relationship, usually it was indifference. Once the infatuation faded all those 'little things' just never seemed to be enough.

He thought about Natalie, his last girlfriend. He'd liked her, the sex had been good, but he'd known, even before that Dear John letter, that it wasn't forever, that he wasn't willing to alter the trajectory of his life for her. With T'Pol it was the opposite, infatuation and sex had come last. He realised with with a strange blinding certainty, that even if they could never have sex again, he wouldn't want to give her up, that he could never be indifferent to her. Whatever happened he wanted to be wherever she was and he he would sacrifice anything to bring that about.

He looked at her shyly. "Yeah," he said "I feel the same way about you."

She looked at him intently "As a Vulcan, expressions of affection are not part of my culture. I am not sure I will ever be able to verbalise fully the depth of my regard for you." She placed her hand over the side of his face. "But I do believe you are K'hat'n'dlawa, half of my heart and half of my soul."

He was no linguist but he was pretty certain that was Vulcan for 'I love you'. He smiled at her and put his hand behind her head. "I love you too, darlin." he confessed as he pulled into into a kiss.

Naturally, from that point, things progressed to their logical conclusion. Ever the scientist, T'Pol mentally examined the data she had previously collected from her comprehensive, theoretical research into human sexuality. In light of recent experience in the field, she was able to use her excellent analytical skills and near perfect memory to extrapolate the data into some practical applications; of which Trip was the willing, grateful, and somewhat astounded recipient. In return he was able to demonstrate that a good engineer does not need a manual to operate a finely tuned instrument as he made her engines sing.


	10. Chapter 9: It was regrettable

_When planning this chapter I found another timing inconsistency in the dialogue in the Azati Prime Episode. In scene 10 the Xindi Reptillians report they had lost contact with the lunar outpost 2 hours before. Then in the following scene, (scene 11) Captain Archer says he gave the order to destroy the base only 1 hour before. Either the Captain can't read a clock or a calendar, or the production crew of Star Trek Enterprise were affected by the Temporal Cold War._

 _Based on the dialogue it seems to me that the Xindi must have had communication with the moon base through all phases of its orbit because this dialogue seems to suggest they were aware they had lost contact with the base soon after it was destroyed. This suggests to me that the Xindi must have learned quite early that Enterprise was there - likely before Archer left on his suicide mission which is why he was intercepted so quickly._

 _This chapter is dialogue light. I figure most of the exchanges would be pretty much the same as they were in the episode. The major difference was T'Pol's state of mind so most of the chapter is her perspective on what's going on, peppered with dialogue from the episode and some original stuff written by me where I believe conversations would have gone in a different direction._

 _The idea of gossip as a form of verbal grooming is an actual theory first proposed by Dr Robin Dunbar head of the Social and Evolutionary Neuroscience Research Group in the Department of Experimental Psychology at the University of Oxford_

* * *

 **Chapter 9: It was regrettable**

 _0300: T'Pol's Quarters_

Trip looked down at the sleeping woman with a smile. He hated leaving like this but he needed to go before people started moving around the ship precipitating the shift change. Rumours had been rife about them for months, but if he was spied leaving her quarters in the early hours, wearing sweats, the talk would reach a fever pitch. He lifted her arm gently and started to slide away from her. She stirred, gave a soft sighing sound and tried to pull him close again, nuzzling into his neck. He felt his stomach clench, he loved the strong unyielding woman she was when she was awake, but there was something about the gentle, vulnerable creature she became in sleep that aroused something primal in him.

"T'Pol," he kissed her forehead, "it's oh three hundred, I should get back to my quarters before people start moving about the ship."

She woke fully in response, lifted her head and pressed a kiss against his mouth, pulling herself over him. He chuckled into her mouth. Dammit, he'd really awoken the beast when he initiated her into sex, the woman was insatiable. He felt himself hardening in response and pulled away again. "Sorry, darlin, I really have to go or we'll be 'news of the day' at breakfast."

He got up and looked around her quarters for his clothes. He noticed the burnt down stub of the meditation candle with a slight feeling of guilt. Several times over the past 6 weeks their meditation had gotten no further than sitting down in front of the lit candle before they'd been stripping the clothes off each other and heading for the rack. As he tracked down his discarded clothes he worried about the quality of her meditation since they'd become a couple. Perhaps when he saw her at breakfast he'd suggest she meditate alone tonight and he'd come to her quarters later for neuro-pressure. Right, neuro-pressure, they were even worse at getting through that than the meditation.

He pulled on his clothes and looked over at her lying on the bed watching him. He sat down on the edge of the bunk and slipped on his shoes. She ran a hand along his thigh as he did. He gave her a sideways look and a wry smile. She would barely even stand close to him during the day when they were on duty. But as soon as they got into the privacy of her quarters she was surprisingly tactile.

He leaned over and kissed her lightly. "I'll see you at breakfast at oh six hundred?" He finished the sentence with a raised infliction indicating a question, but he knew there was no need for confirmation, she would be there. He ran two fingers down the side of her face as he got up. She grabbed his hand as he moved away only letting go when he got too far away to maintain the contact. Her eyes remained on him as he left the room.

 _1000: Bridge_

"Their flightpath is somewhat erratic." T'Pol observed dryly. The whole bridge watched, with various levels of nervousness as Commander Tucker and Ensign Mayweather sped away in the insectoid shuttle, and then back again. Captain Archer initiated a brief conversation with the shuttle but the whole bridge winced when the shuttle grazed the ship. T'Pol ignored the light banter between the Captain and Commander that occurred as a result. Vulcans were generally perplexed by these seemingly meaningless exchanges. T'Pol had come to understand that for humans this humorous repartee helped to dissipate tension for everyone.

They monitored the shuttle's progress as it passed through the detection grid but soon lost it on sensors. "The detection grid is creating too much interference. I've lost them." She reported to the Bridge. She experience a moment of disquiet at her mate's absence from her. She reminded herself she had calculated odds of 92.8% for a successful mission, she was satisfied with the likelihood of his return so put Tucker and Mayweather out of her mind.

"We're being scanned."

At lieutenant Reed's report she checked her scanners immediately and found the small moon base with three Xindi life signs. After reporting that the base had not made a transmission and hypothesising that they may have to wait four hours for the moon'a orbit to bring them into communication range again, she began to consider likely scenarios to disable the base. Before she could formulate a logical course of action, Captain Archer ordered the moon base destroyed. While she made an attempt to get the Captain to rethink his decision, as she had not had time to consider a strategy to neutralise of the base, she was unable to provide a plausible alternative to deter him.

She experienced a sense of disquiet. She calculated that the moon base's destruction would not adversely affect the success of the insectoid shuttle mission. But, she could not help but think that the Captain had acted rashly. That by destroying the base he had put a time limit on their ability to operate within this system undetected. Once the moon's orbit took it back into range, the Xindi would quickly discover the destroyed base. They would no doubt investigate which would greatly increase the chance that the Enterprise would be discovered if it were still in the system. She began to calculate how much time they had before they were discovered.

 _1215: Corridor_

T'Pol looked at the small medallion. She had enough experience with Daniels to know quantum dating would prove the origins of the artefact but offered to have it dated anyway. She attempted to convince the Captain of the logic of accepting Daniel's argument, that he was not the best person to attempt the mission and that a diplomatic option was the logical choice. He dismissed that attempt out of hand.

"What am I supposed to do? Fly a shuttle into the system and knock on the door, tell the Xindi we want to talk?" Archer asked "The weapon is too close to being launched. If the situation were different maybe I'd consider it, but I can't." He told her.

"You are the least logical person to attempt this mission, Captain. Not only will your death affect the morale of the crew but destroying the weapon outright will not necessarily eliminate the threat to Earth. It will only buy us more time to achieve a diplomatic solution. If the mission to destroy the weapon is successful we will need your skills as a diplomat and negotiator, if it is unsuccessful we will need your leadership. There are other people on this ship whose likelihood of success on this mission is not materially different to yours. You do not have to die, it is unnecessary." She told him.

"I wish that were true." He answered.

She was perplexed by his answer. Why did he feel that he had to die. Did he believe some fatalistic sacrifice was required to save Earth. She had been aware that a logical argument was unlikely to persuade him. She understood humans enough to know that there must be a strong emotional component behind his rationale for insisting that he pilot the shuttle. But she lacked the means to make a convincing emotional argument so she had hoped he would be prepared to accept logic.

By her calculation there was only one hour and forty five minutes before the moon's orbit took the destroyed base back into communication range. After that she had calculated it would take them at least a further two point five hours to determine the fate of the base and find Enterprise. She was conscious that their time was running out.

There was no way for her to know that the Xindi had already noted that contact with the station had been lost and they would already know that Enterprise was there by the time the Captain left Enterprise in the Insectoid shuttle.

 _1502: Bridge_

It was silent on the bridge. They were waiting. There was very little else to do. They were used to waiting; space exploration, by its nature, had long periods of inaction between short periods of intense action. They usually filled the hours of waiting with idle conversation. When T'Pol had first come on board she had found the human habit of constant talk about... nothing, to be distracting and pointless. It was Ensign Sato, a linguist, an expert in talking, who had explained it in scientific terms for T'Pol. Humans were social creatures and had descended from animals that maintained their social bonds through touch. As their dexterity and tool use increased, opportunities for physical contact became less frequent and talking replaced it. Gossip, chitchat, small talk, it was a type of verbal grooming.

Once T'Pol understood this she tried to participate as much as her literal Vulcan mind allowed her. Her goal was to improve her interpersonal relationships with the crew, so they would consider her part of their social group, which was essential for the smooth running of the ship. She knew she was not adept at this kind of conversation. Her literal interpretation of some human phrases and idiom was frequently amusing to members of the crew, particularly Commander Tucker. Fortunately, because of her Vulcan nature, she was not offended by this, and she theorised that her lack of objection to being laughed at was actually an asset. Even so, after two and a half years, although she had come to expect this seemingly pointless talk she still found the practice to be somewhat distracting and unnecessary.

Now she found herself desiring some of that mindless chatter. The silence was like a physical presence on the bridge, pacing in front of the Captain's chair, looking over Ensign Sato's shoulder as she listened to the sound of space, standing next to Ensign Mayweather, looking up at the viewing screen. The silence filled all the places where the Captain would have been, but would never be again.

"How long has it been?" asked Ensign Mayweather suddenly breaking the silence.

T'Pol felt a surge of annoyance. Surly the Ensign had a chronometer at his station, she would hope if he could pilot a starship, he could read a clock. She clamped down on the rogue emotion

"It's been an hour." Ensign Sato answered.

Another surge of annoyance. It had actually been fifty eight minutes. She could not understand the human habit of generalising data that could be measured and reported accurately.

Travis dropped his head. "It only took Commander Tucker and I twenty five minutes to get to the weapon." He said quietly.

T'Pol gripped the arms of the Captain's chair batting down another wave of annoyance. The emotions she was feeling bothered her, primarily because she should not be experiencing them. She realised she was suffering the effects of neglecting her meditation. Something, as Trip had pointed out at breakfast, that she had been doing frequently over the past month. She looked across at Commander Tucker, the reason for this neglect, who was manning the Engineering Station. He caught her eye and tipped his head slightly towards the Ready Room. She raised her eyebrows in acknowledgement and rose from the chair. "I'll be in the Ready Room. Commander Tucker, please join me."

 _1505: Captains Ready Room_

Trip started speaking as soon as the ready room door closed, before T'Pol even had a chance to sit down. "Are you alright? You looked a little tense out there." He asked her. He had obviously noticed her unusual emotions.

"I am experiencing agitation in response to the crew's interaction." She replied. "I believe you were right this morning, I have been neglecting my meditation somewhat over the past month and am experiencing the effects in the form of difficulties suppressing base emotions."

"Oh." Trip gave a smirk. He was well aware what she'd been doing in place of meditation, because she'd been doing it with him.

"It should not be a source of amusement." she told him curtly. "The Captain entrusted me with this ship and its crew. My effectiveness will be compromised if I am unable to keep my emotions suppressed."

Trip felt a little twinge of guilt at her words. It had never been his intention to compromise her emotional discipline, he knew how important it was to her, that she couldn't really handle feeling emotions. "Look, why don't you spend an hour in here meditating. I'll man the conn while you do it and if there's anything to report, we'll let you know immediately. Then I think we need to have a brainstorming session with the senior staff." He ran a hand over his mouth. "It's looking more and more likely the Captain has failed." he said quietly. "We need to decide what to do next."

"I attempted to convince the Captain that it was illogical for him to be the one to attempt this mission. In retrospect I believe a logical argument was not the best strategy. His decision to pilot the shuttle was an emotional one. I should have requested that you or one of the other crew members attempt to dissuade him, to utilise an emotional argument to try and convince him."

He stepped up to her and took her hand. "Trust me, I made a pretty a emotional plea with him to reconsider and I'm pretty sure most of the officers did to some extent. Even travelling to the future with Daniels and being told he had to live to save the galaxy didn't deter him." He gave her hand a squeeze. "His mind was made up."

She accepted his assessment of the Captain's mindset and at the same time saw the logic of his proposal. By her calculation they still had one hour and twenty three minutes before they would be detected by the Xindi. It was logical for her to use some of that time to meditate and regain her discipline. She was aware of how limited their current options were and she needed to be at her most rational and centred to ensure she chose the best path for the crew and the mission going forward.

"I will meditate. It would also be a good use of this time to give the bridge crew some breaks as well. I believe the emotional tension on the bridge is not conducive to optimal human performance. Dismissed "

"Yes, sir." Trip smiled at her as he left the room.

 _1600: Situation Room_

T'Pol looked at Commander Tucker and Lieutenant Reed and realised she had hoped, against logic, that they would have come up with a proposal that on the surface would be illogical and emotionally driven yet would somehow be assured of success. Unfortunately no one had suggested any course of action that she had not already considered and dismissed. Reed and Tucker were both in favour of taking the ship in as close as possible to take out the weapon but T'Pol had already dismissed that as assured of failure.

Her proposal, which in her mind had the highest likelihood of success, was for her to take a shuttle to attempt a diplomatic solution. In her assessment, the fact that she was not human did give the option a small chance of success. Reed and Tucker, rather emotionally, pointed out that the flaws in the plan which ultimately outweighed the small chance of success.

Trip sarcastically suggested, by her criteria, they should send Phlox to negotiate. She actually seriously considered the proposal. Phlox had a unique ability to connect with aliens of vastly different cultures, he looked sufficiently different to humans to not be immediately associated with them and he had not been scanned by the alien woman Rajiin, so the Xindi would not immediately be able to connect Phlox to the humans. She was forced to dismiss the idea, as the only Doctor on board, Phlox was truly indispensable.

In the end the most logical solution was to retreat from the system and regroup. Although she had only meditated for forty minutes, instead of the suggested hour, she was conscious that the deadline she had calculated was now only thirty minutes away. For the safety of the crew it was imperative that some distance be put between the Enterprise and Azati Prime.

They were an hour away before she discovered there had been an error in her logic.

 _1700: Bridge_

The silence on the bridge had persisted as they sped away from Azati Prime. T'Pol had become adept at reading and predicting human emotions and had anticipated that there would be high levels of despondency over the loss of the Captain and failure to destroy the Xindi Weapon. She resolved to speak to Commander Tucker about making a ship wide announcement. She would need the assistance of her first officer to compose a speech that would address the crew's emotions and not just the practical matters of the day's events.

At the thought of the Captain's fate, she tamped down on a surge of grief in case it should incapacitate her. Once again she noted how fortunate humans were in their ability to keep functioning even while experiencing great emotional upheaval.

"Sub-Commander, I've detected four Xindi ships, they appear to be closing on our position." Lieutenant Reed's voice penetrated the silence of the the Bridge and broke through her contemplation.

T'Pol leapt into action. "Hail them, Ensign Sato. Mr Reed, make the weapons hot and declare a tactical alert."

As expected there was no response to the hails. The Reptillian ships attacked as soon as they were within range.

Enterprise had very little chance against the four heavily armed reptillian ships. Despite the efforts of all the crew and the cool guidance of T'Pol they were losing, and badly. They had managed to take out one of the other ships but the remaining three continued to pound them. Communication was down, there were multiple hull breaches and no helm control, the situation in engineering was unknown.

T'Pol wondered if Trip was still alive and was filled with the strange certainty that he was. As she attempted to guide the bridge crew through what she was sure were their last moments she was so impressed by the humans. They never gave in to the fear she knew they must be feeling. It was regrettable that they should die here, regrettable that her people had turned away from Earth in its hour of need. She had come to realise that humans and Vulcans complimented each other. The humans were not illogical slaves to their emotions anymore than Vulcans were emotionless automatons. With the opportunity to work together humans and Vulcans could have become something great - a force in the galaxy. But their failure here meant Earth was endangered, she was endangered, everything she had learned, everything she had experienced, all that she had to offer her people, all that Earth had to offer her people, would be lost. It was regrettable.


	11. Chapter 10: Call an interstella Uber

Chapter 10: Call an interstellar Uber

T'Pol looked at the group of humans gathered round the situation table. Had the discussion not been so serious, it would have been a fascinating study of human body language. The Captain stared dead ahead, almost defiantly refusing to drop his eyes, daring those collected to judge him for his decisions. The rest of the officers kept their eyes resolutely on the situation table with the occasional sideways glance at each other. Only looking up if they had to speak. The body language of regret, of disbelief. T'Pol herself was the only one not affected by the mood around the table, but that didn't mean she agreed with the Captain's course of action.

"We can't risk tipping them off. We have to take them by surprise. That'll reduce the losses on both sides. We'll disable their ship as quickly as we can, beam over, extract the warp coil and get out, hopefully without any casualties." The Captain finished and turned to Travis "Set a course."

T'Pol watched as everyone turned to take up their assigned tasks. As Commander Tucker went past her she grabbed his hand. "Trip." She said softly.

Trip looked down at their joined hands with wide eyes. She made a point of never touching him when they were in public spaces and only called him by his nickname when they were in her quarters. He had a sneaking suspicion that she even thought of him as 'Commander Tucker' when they were on duty and 'Trip' when they were in private. He could tell by the look in her eye that she didn't like the Captain's plan. Hell, it's not like she was alone there. No one who was at that meeting had ever thought they would one day be planning an act of piracy, including the Captain, but the fate of Earth was on the line.

"Do you agree with the Captain's planned course of action?" She asked him quietly.

He gave a sigh and folded his arms across his chest. "Do I think it's a great option, no. Do I want to become a pirate and strand some perfectly nice aliens alone in dangerous space, no. Do I want to miss that meeting with Degra and condemn Earth to certain destruction, also no."

"Surly there is another way that doesn't require us to compromise our principles. We don't need to get the whole ship to the rendezvous, just the Captain."

Trip raised his eyebrow and cant his head mockingly. "Oh, well, in that case we'll just call an interstellar Uber. I'm sure the price will be very reasonable, provided he doesn't want to take Porthos."

T'Pol gave him a blank look in return. "I don't know what that is?"

Trip looked at her with surprise. "It's a company that used to exist around 100 years ago, they haven't operated for years but the name has entered the lexicon, kind of like google."

T'Pol looked equally blank "I don't know what that is either."

Trip snorted with laughter and had to admit he enjoyed the release of tension from genuine amusement. "Google was a search engine from the early twenty-first century, it was so popular that the term 'google' literally came to mean searching for something on the internet. Uber was a ride sharing company. Kind of like a taxi service but using private cars. Basically if you owned a car you could put yourself on the database and the Uber app would connect you with people who wanted a ride somewhere but didn't want to pay inflated taxi prices. Now, the word pretty much means getting the equivalent of a taxi ride from a private citizen" Trip told her. "Would you like to hear about Sellotape and Band-Aids now." he quipped.

T'Pol had a fleeting thought that she should find out about Sellotape and Band-Aids, for the sake of future reference, but she had just had an idea that took precedence. "Not right now, I must speak with the Captain immediately." She said as she turned and walked away from him.

Trip looked surprised at her sudden departure. "What? Why? He asked to her retreating back.

She turned and gave him an enigmatic look. "I believe that we should 'call an Uber' for the Captain." She said without a hint of irony. "Don't worry, Porthos will not be accompanying him." she finished just as dryly, but Trip was pretty sure that part was a joke.

 _Later_

'I never would have believed that we would have obtained a warp coil this way' thought Captain Archer as he looked at the alien over the view screen.

"We were lucky Captain, they are known to carry spare warp coils on all their ships. The use of the sub-space vortex is quite damaging to warp engines so it is standard to have at least one spare on board. But they have agreed to trade us one" The alien told him.

"Thank you for negotiating that for us, Degra. Do you think the Reptillians will mind that the warp coil they gave you is going into an Earth ship. He asked.

"I don't intend to ever tell them Captain Archer and I suggest you don't either." Degra responded. "I will come across to your ship to discuss the next step with you."

As it turned out, the 'Uber' idea T'Pol had conceived of three days before was to negotiate with Illyrians to transport the Captain, with the required data for Degra on PADDs, to the liaison point. Archer had been reluctant at first not wanting to risk alerting the Illyrians to the possibility of a raid by showing how desperate they were. T'Pol, however, had all but insisted that the ethical choice was the logical choice and he had noted the relief of his senior staff that they had an reasonable alternative to piracy. As it turned out the Illyrians were quite agreeable to transporting the Captain in exchange for trellium and scientific data on the spheres and anomalies. It also seemed that the fact that the Enterprise had offered to help the Illyrians earlier, despite its own dire condition, had engendered quite a lot of good will with the aliens.

There had been some intense discussions with the senior staff about who should accompany him, with all the officers believing they were each essential to the mission. In the end Archer had put his foot down. Trip and Reed were needed on Enterprise to continue repairs and T'Pol was needed as acting Captain. So Archer had selected Hoshi, for her communication skills, one of Trip's engineering staff to assist the Illyrians with their repairs, and Major Hayes and another MACO for security. T'Pol had seemed strangely insistent that the second MACO be Corporal Cole, Archer hadn't been aware she knew the Corporal that well. For some reason, just as strangely, Trip had been amused by T'Pol's selection.

"We seem to have had some success." Captain Archer told T'Pol and Trip over a sub-space communication later that day. "Degra was impressed by the evidence and he's arranged for us to meet the Xindi Council in three days time."

"Where does the council meet, Captain" T'Pol asked.

"I've just transmitted you the coordinates, it's nearly twelve light years from our current location, but Degra has also given me the coordinates of a sub space corridor, only half a light year from here, that will get us there in time" He told them.

Trip reviewed the data and looked outraged. "Captain, are you saying you're planning to do this without us? We're still stuck here with no warp coil, it would take us weeks to get to that sub-space corridor."

"Believe it or not Trip, Degra is on his way to meet you with a Reptillian warp coil, which we purchased off them with some trellium." He replied, laughing at the irony of it.

"I find it hard to believe that the reptillians were willing to trade with humans, Captain." T'Pol said. "How did you negotiate the purchase?"

Archer laughed again. "I didn't, T'Pol. Degra negotiated on our behalf. He told them it was for Illyrians. It seems they've been more useful to us that just as an interstellar taxi service."

"Indeed, Captain." She responded. "I assume the Illyrians have no objections to transporting you to the corridor and waiting there for Enterprise? It will take us a minimum of 2 days at warp 3 to get to these coordinates from our current location."

"Honestly T'Pol, I suspect they couldn't be happier. So far from this exchange they've received several kilos of trellium, the free services of an engineer and a linguist for 3 days, an impressive amount of data about the spheres and the anomalies, and they've had two very positive first contacts. I think they'd take me all they way back to Earth if I asked."

" that won't be required." responded T'Pol.

"Hopefully not," Archer replied. "But it's nice to have some friends out here. See you two days."

T'Pol ended the call and reflected on the improved mood of the Captain. It was fortunate that her discussion with Trip, three days before, had resulted in the idea of requesting the Illyrians assistance in transporting the Captain to the rendezvous point. She had been noticing signs that the Captain was struggling to come to terms with the ethical ramifications of many of the difficult decisions he had made in the expanse. It was gratifying to know that she had prevented him from being burdened further.

She looked at Trip, who was sitting at the computer terminal in the Command Centre, reviewing the specs for the warp coil Degra was delivering to them. His eyes were red rimmed, his hair greasy and limp, there was dirt all over his face and uniform. Even the skin on his face seamed to sag a little as if he were too tired to hold the flesh to his bones. She moved behind him and started to manipulate some neuro-pressure points in his shoulders.

"That feels nice darlin, but I can't afford to sleep right now." He reached up and placed his hand over hers, squeezing affectionately.

She sensed his emotions through the contact, fatigue, worry about the Captain, grief for lost colleagues, simmering anger against the Xindi. "When did you last sleep?" She asked

"Uh, I don't know. I caught a couple hours, maybe last night, maybe this morning." He didn't take his eyes of the monitor as he spoke. He took his hand away from hers and started transferring data to some PADDs that were lying on the desk.

She resumed working the pressure points in his shoulders. "Manipulation of these nodes will invigorate you and reduce stress, but will not induce sleep." She told him. "But you do need sleep. Once the new warp coil is installed you should rest. I will order you if I have to." She was breaking her own rule touching him when they were on duty. But his need was great and she had a duty to her mate as well.

Trip chuckled humourlessly "I'm sure you will. But after I'm done with this I need to do some work on deck C in preparation for tomorrow. I also have to write that damn letter to Crewman Taylor's parents." He began to rise and she dropped her hands.

He turned and faced her putting a hand up to her face and gazed intently into her eyes. "We have a couple of days before we rendezvous with the Captain. Just let me get these urgent things out of the way then I will report to your quarters, front and centre, and you can neuro-pressure me into a coma." He pressed a gentle kiss on her mouth and she leaned into the kiss. It had been a very long three days since they were last intimate, she had missed him.


	12. Chapter 11: Not your average family reun

**Chapter 11: Not your average family reunion**.

Captain Archer looked at his First and Second Officer, standing opposite him in his ready room, and idly wondered into what marvellous, uncharted territory this conversation was going to take them. "Right," He said "it seems we were... will be... would have been..." he wondered what tense you were supposed to use for an event that has already happened, but not yet, and now may not happen at all, but will still have happened. No doubt T'Pol, would lament how imprecise human languages were. The Vulcan Science Directorate may have determined that time travel is not possible, he thought with a touch of asperity, but certainly they would never be so illogical as to not prepare their language for a single event that, at the same time, has already, has not yet, and will never happen.

He started again, "It would seem that Enterprise has, once again, determined that the Vulcan Science Directorate doesn't know shit about time travel, and we are now hosting a mixer with our various descendants, whose ancestors, i.e. us, were thrown back 117 years into the past."

Trip pressed his lips together and rolled them between his teeth in an apparent effort not to grin as he tipped his head forward and turned it away from T'Pol to prevent her seeing his mirth. For her part, T'Pol didn't move a muscle, except the ones that controlled her right eyebrow which arched towards her hairline.

"That is an.. interesting, if somewhat emotional, summary of our current situation, Captain." T'Pol told him with typical Vulcan blandness.

Archer looked between his two officers standing before him. "Speaking of emotional, I must say, considering that you two have just been introduced you to your 100 year old son, you both seem to be taking it pretty calmly."

T'Pol gave him her 'thoughtful' expression. "I admit I was somewhat surprised by Lorian's ancestry, a successful hybrid paring of human/Vulcan DNA has yet to be achieved by our scientists."

"That's what surprised you?" Archer asked incredulous "not the fact that you and our Chief Engineer stopped arguing long enough to get married, let alone have a child?"

Trip huffed with laughter causing Archer to turn his attention to the engineer. "Don't look at me Cap'n," Trip said holding up his hands in a conciliatory manner. "Once you've been knocked up by a box of rocks, the bar is set pretty high for being shocked by your offspring."

Archer couldn't help laughing himself at the reminder. "Well T'Pol, you may be further surprised to know that you're still knocking around over there. I just had a rather emotional reunion with you in your quarters."

T'Pol's eyebrows went up. "It is not unlikely that a Vulcan of my current age would live for a further 117 years, and perhaps longer. It is somewhat unexpected that I, personally, would still be 'knocking around' as you say, given my medical condition."

Trip regarded her speculatively, "and just how old would a Vulcan of your current age be, T'Pol?" He asked with grin, obviously he still had not given up his nearly three year quest to get her to tell him her age.

T'Pol, who had three years of experience not answering that particular question, didn't even acknowledge his impertinence with an eyebrow.

Archer looked at them both thoughtfully, realising the implications of T'Pol's statement and Trip's lack of surprise. Obviously she had told Trip about her Pa'nar Syndrome. That suggested a certain level of intimacy, perhaps not 'married with children intimacy', but he was starting to reassess the nature of their relationship in light of recent information. He decided he didn't have time for whatever was going on with them at the moment and picked up the PADD sitting on his desk.

"Your, er, aged counterpart gave me this. She said it had some data on it you may be interested in, and that you'd know what to do with it." As he said it, he handed the PADD across the desk to her.

He turned to the chief engineer "Trip, how are the engine upgrades going?"

"Pretty good, Cap'n, we should be done in the next eight to twelve hours. Lorian's a pretty fair engineer. I'd love to have some time to sit down and pick his brains."

"Okay, get it done. Hopefully we'll have more time to get to know him and his crew once this is over. Dismissed."

Archer watched them leave the ready room and sighed as he turned to his computer to update his daily log. He could already imagine the 'fun' that Starfleet and the Vulcans would have with this particular incident if they got back to Earth. Time travel, a Vulcan/ human marriage, a Vulcan/human hybrid; Soval would probably need surgery to get his eyebrow lowered.

* * *

Entering the mess hall to get a drink, the captain's eye couldn't help but be caught by the three people having a drink together in the still shattered remains of the room.

He noticed how relaxed the they seemed to be together. The younger looking of the two men sat, leaning against the back of his chair, slightly slouched, with his foot on his opposite knee drink in his hands held low, wrists resting on his legs. He talked animatedly, smiling regularly, lifting a hand every now and again to gesture along with his story.

The woman, who sat to his left, had a more rigid posture, but anyone who knew her would know, that for her, she was relaxed. Her back was straight, but her left leg was crossed over her right and her whole body was turned slightly towards the man talking. She held her drink, in both hands, high, almost at chest height, looking over her cup at the younger man. Although she seemed expressionless, she gave him her full attention. Even when she lifted her cup to take a sip, she did not take her eyes off him. Occasionally they would catch each others eye and hold the gaze for just a fraction longer than would be expected. Every now and again she would raise an eyebrow and make a comment in response to something the young man was saying. Usually this would cause him to tip his head back and laugh or grin impishly at her.

Opposite the woman sat the older man. Seat pulled up against the table, feet planted firmly on the deck, mug on the table, hands cupped loosely around it. Mostly looking at the younger man, listening to him speak. His face was also largely expressionless, but sometimes, in response to what the younger man was saying or the woman's riposte, he would give a small, fleeting smile, looking down as he did, as if his smiles were something that should be kept secret from everyone but himself. Occasionally he would look between the couple, as if noting the glances and the small expressions that seemed to indicate a second private conversation was going on between them and, recognising their obvious affection for each other, the corners of his mouth would twitch in another secret smile.

Archer was mesmerised. He had a strange feeling as he looked at them, like he was looking at the past and the future at the same time. He could see them for exactly what they were: a family; Trip, T'Pol and their son, Lorian.

* * *

Captain Archer came across Commander Tucker leaving Sick Bay when he was on the way to quarters for a quick shower, while T'Pol and the engineering staff made the final adjustments to the ship for the jump through the vortex. "Trip," He said with a smile slapping him on the back. "How are you feeling?"

Trip gave him a grin "I feel like I've been shot with a phase pistol, I'm pretty sure you know how that feels, Cap'n."

Archer had to give a chuckle. "I seem to recall some recent experience with that. Not your average family reunion, is it?"

Trip gave a wry smile in return. "You could say that. I think I'm going to have to give that boy a good talking to."

John nodded and gave Trip a sly grin. "I don't know, Trip, it may be something to do with his father, there seems to be a lot of that sort of thing going on in his family at the moment." He paused and gave Trip a faux thoughtful look. I can't help but think he wasn't raised right. Personally, I blame the parents."

Trip laughed out loud at the captain's teasing. "You might have to talk to his mother about that, Cap'n, apparently his farther died when he was 14 and she raised him alone." He said, as he took a left and headed off to his quarters.

Archer shook his head in amusement and watched his chief engineer head down the corridor. "I may just do that, Commander."

Trip stopped, turned around and smirked at Archer. "You're a braver man than me then, Cap'n. All I ask is that you let me be there when you do. Give me some warning though, so I can bring some beers and popcorn." He turned and started heading towards his quarters again, calling over his shoulder as he went. "I haven't had much opportunity to see a live sporting event in the last few years. I'm sure it will be entertaining."

Archer shook his head and laughed as he continued on to his own quarters. It had been a long time since he had some friendly banter like that with Trip. In the last month a dark cloud seemed to have lifted off the Chief Engineer and he'd started to show more and more of his old sunny nature. The months after his sister's death had been a like a black hole for Trip, sucking all the light out of him. Archer had to acknowledge he'd distanced himself from his old friend during that time. As much as he hated doing it, it had been out of necessity. He just hadn't had the mental and emotional reserves to do what needed to be done to save Earth and prop up his grieving friend. He was also aware the situation with clone, Sim, had affected the closeness of their relationship.

He knew that the relationship between T'Pol and Trip had changed during their time in the expanse but he just couldn't put his finger on exactly what was different. They still bickered over technical issues. Trip still tried to confuse her with idiom. T'Pol would never pass up the opportunity to slip the word 'logical' into a conversation knowing how it riled him and clearly T'Pol still hadn't told him her age. But there was an ease between them that was absent from their interactions with other crew members. They worked almost as a unit. They stood a little closer to each other, were able to communicate with a look or a gesture, they were able to anticipate each other. They seemed, somehow, more intimate without ever touching.

As Captain, he had been fully briefed by Dr Phlox about the neuro-pressure and its benefits for both his senior officers and, up until a couple of days ago, he had considered their new closeness to be a harmless side effect of those sessions. Then he met their 100 year old son and suddenly he found himself re-evaluating their interactions. A year ago he would put them in the 'least likely to marry each other' category of the yearbook. Now, looking at them with fresh eyes, sometimes it was almost like they already were.

* * *

It was late as Archer headed to the mess to get a drink before hitting the rack for a couple of hours sleep. It had been, to put it mildly, a very strange day. He thought about Karyn, his supposed great granddaughter. He didn't even know if she had existed now, and there was no chance to meet her great grandmother, his once-upon-a-time wife, because she had been born over 100 years ago, lived a completely different life to the one Karyn knew and, he assumed, died many years ago. Truthfully, he hadn't felt a great connection to Karyn Archer, it was hard to think of her being related to him, with her alien features and dark colouring. Lorian was another matter. The child of his two senior officers, it hadn't been hard to look for, and find, each of them in his face and personality.

As he walked into the mess hall he was surprised to find said senior officers, sitting at the same table he had seen them at earlier that day with Lorian. They were both sitting so differently from their earlier posture it was like he was looking at two different people. Trip was sitting in the same seat, chair pulled up to the table, both feet tucked under his chair, forearms resting on the table, hands loosely cupped around his mug, gaze fixed on the table, a shattered expression on his face. T'Pol was sitting in the seat Lorian had occupied earlier, back ridged, hands resting in her lap, gazing blankly out the window into space, her expression as unreadable as ever. Suddenly, Trip lifted his head up, sniffed, swiped a hand over his mouth and muttered some comment to T'Pol as he returned his hand to the table. In the dimmed light of the mess, Archer thought he could see a glistening in Trip's eyes. In response, T'Pol turned her head and gazed into his eyes for a moment before she reached out her hand and placed it over one of his. Trip closed his hand over her fingers and squeezed. They looked into each other's eyes for slightly longer than a moment, before Trip dropped his head again and T'Pol resumed staring out the window. They did not let go of each other's hands.

Archer decided he could make do with a glass of water from his bathroom and left them to their quiet grief.


	13. Chapter 12: Interstellar butterfly

_This chapter is a continuation from the final section of the previous chapter. I almost didn't post it because after I wrote it I decided it didn't really add anything meaningful to the story. I decided to include it because I always like to read interaction between Trip and T'Pol and I didn't have another chapter ready to post._

* * *

 **Chapter 12: Flight of the interstellar butterfly**

Eventually T'Pol had looked at Trip, almost falling asleep at a table in the mess hall, and suggested he to come to her room for neuro-pressure.

He'd mustered a smile and waggled his eyebrows at her as they entered her quarters 'Neuro-pressure, huh?' he asked suggestively, "and what do you mean by 'neuro-pressure?"

T'Pol sighed the long suffering sigh which was birthright of women all over the galaxy. "I mean the Vulcan practice of stimulating neural nodes and pressure points in the body to prompt healing and relaxation." she responded as they each removed their shoes.

"You know, you don't have to use artifice if you want to entice me to your room. I'm a very straight forward kind of a guy." He teased her as he started stripping down to his skivvies, kicking his uniform under the bed when he was done.

T'Pol, true to her nature, did not rise to the bait. "Vulcan's do not use artifice, Commander Tucker. We say exactly what we mean." She divested herself of her own uniform and placed it in the laundry, then did the same with his after retrieving it from under the bunk.

"Well ain't that the truth." He laughed.

He sat on edge of her bed and looked up at her "Honestly, T'Pol, I'm so tired I don't think I'd stay awake for more than ten seconds of neuro-pressure. Do you think maybe, we could just go to bed?" He asked shyly. "I mean... to sleep... you know... next to each other for a couple hours. I know it's been less than a week since the whole Azati Prime thing, but it feels like a month and I've just missed holding you."

T'Pol didn't miss a beat. She moved across the room, crawled into his lap and kissed him. "I'll take that as a yes." He said as he shifted them to a laying position and they both wriggled under the sheets.

They each settled into their favoured position. Trip on his back. T'Pol, next to the wall, pressed against his side with her head on his chest. He smiled to himself when T'Pol suddenly shifted with annoyance and worked off his tank top then took off her own so they could rest skin to skin.

Despite his assertion that sleep would come quickly, he found himself unable to let go of the strange events of the day and he could tell T'Pol was not asleep either. After a couple of minutes he decided to ask the question that had been on his mind for most of the day.

"T'Pol, why won't you tell me how old you are?"

"Certain information is considered... intimate to Vulcans." She replied.

He narrowed his eyebrows in disbelief. "More intimate than this?

Had she been human she probably would have laughed. "No, if I believed it really mattered to you, I would tell you. But I have come to the conclusion that you derive a certain amount of amusement from trying to convince me to tell you, perhaps in the manner of a game. I continue to refrain from telling you in order not to terminate your enjoyment of said game.

He gave a silent chuckle at her description when he realised that was she was doing, most illogically of course, was engaging in banter with him. "So are you going to tell me how old you are?" He asked

"Yes."

Trip waited for a pause "um, so how old are you then."

"I did not say I was going to tell you now."

He laughed with the realisation that she'd just gotten him good. "Perhaps I should have asked old you."

"I imagine 'old me' would have been less likely to tell you. It is my understanding that as a women ages she becomes more evasive about revelling her age."

The talk about the other T'Pol got Trip thinking. "So how does it feel to know that there was another version of you, with all your memories, 117 years older, out here living in the expanse for your whole life?"

"If I felt anything, I imagine it would not be materially different to what you felt upon learning a clone of you had been created that shared all your memories."

"Good point."

"As it turns out, she did not have all my memories from prior to being cast back in time, and vice versa."

"What, in what way?"

"As we talked, it became clear that our respective lives took significantly divergent paths about three months go." She told him. "It is possible that, prior to that, there were more differences, that were minor in nature, but a key event in my timeline seems to be your discovery of me accessing the trellium in cargo bay two. In the alternative timeline, T'Pol continued exposing herself to the compound until the events at Azati Prime, by which time she had developed an addiction and caused significant permanent damage to her neural pathways. When the Captan said he had had an 'emotional reunion' with the alternative T'Pol he was not being facetious, as I assumed. Alternative T'Pol had lost some of her ability to suppress her emotions. As as result of this and her years among humans, she was much more expressive than a typical Vulcan

"Wow... just... wow." Trip thought back to that day three months ago and wondered what had precipitated his decision to go to the cargo bay. Even if he could remember the details so it was impossible for him to identify what might have been different. Perhaps it wasn't even his behaviour that was altered, maybe it was T'Pol's. "Did the two of you have any theories about why there may be differences."

"We theorised it was a function of deterministic chaos precipitated by the alternative Enterprise being cast back in time."

Trip nodded. "The Butterfly Effect. So you're suggesting that the alternative Enterprise going back in time represented a change to an initial condition?"

"Not the Enterprise per se, but some factor of the Enterprise's presence in the Expanse 117 years earlier produced a changed initial condition that cascaded to a larger scale alteration. At some point that alteration affected the Enterprise in our timeline and ultimately resulted in changed behaviour of the people on it."

"Were you and alternative T'Pol able to identify any other differences between the two Enterprises?"

"We did not have a lot of time for a detailed analysis of the divergence, but a basic analysis of factors we were aware of identified the most significant changes as being: that in the alternative time the Captain went ahead with the plan to steal the warp coil from the Illyrians; and the progression of our relationship."

Trip was surprised "Us? But our counterparts got married in their timeline."

"They did, but their relationship prior to the corridor was much more uncertain. The behaviour of T'Pol in that timeline was far more erratic. While a small dose of trellium provides us with the ability to experience emotions, it requires experience to process them. Human children are guided through their emotions as part of their upbringing. By the time they are adults they are able to identify them, process them and continue functioning whilst experiencing them. A Vulcan adult does not have these abilities, which for a human are considered basic skills. It is only since my experiments with trellium, and subsequent discussions with Dr Phlox, that I have come to realise this. It is likely that the behaviour of alternative T'Pol would have been considered immature by human standards. I'm sure her Trip was very confused by her behaviour."

"But there's nothing saying they wouldn't have ended up together if they hadn't been stranded in the past." Trip didn't like to imagine a timeline in which they didn't somehow end up together.

"The stranding of Enterprise in the past, presented Trip and T'Pol with a fait accompli of sorts. They each had limited options for pursuing alternative mates both on and off Enterprise. They were forced to resolve issues in their relationship which may not have happened had Enterprise been able to return to Earth."

Trip thought about the past three months, growing closer to T'Pol and eventually entering a committed relationship. It was hard to conceptualise that all the happiness he had with her rested on the flight of a theoretical, interstellar butterfly. "Well, darlin, I'm glad I found you in that cargo bay and I'm glad I get to love you just the way you are." He said as he pulled her closer and kissed her forehead.

"It is agreeable to me as well t'hyla." She replied. "Sleep now, we will be busy tomorrow."


	14. Chapter 13: Plausible Deniability

**Chapter 12: Plausible deniability**

Trip scrubbed his hands over his eyes and tried to make sense of the specs he'd just been sent from Jupiter station. They'd been back almost a month now and it had been an insane whirlwind of memorials, public appearances, media appearances, school visits, functions, and debriefings. In between all that, Enterprise was being repaired and planning was in progress for a refit as well. For all their talk about what they were going to do when they got back to Earth, it turned out the actual answer to that question was - more work, lots more work.

He'd managed to go and see his parents for a weekend. He had hoped to take T'Pol, but she had been called into the Vulcan Embassy for debriefings, seeing as she had nothing better to do. Because Vulcans don't do weekends (leisure time is illogical apparently). It had been nice to see his parents and get away from the post-expanse celebrity for a couple of days, ostensibly to relax. The reality was he'd spent most of the time reviewing plans for Enterprise and explaining to the Jupiter Station engineers all the upgrades he'd made on the fly over the past year, so they could absorb the information into the Star Fleet body of knowledge. He had to admit he was getting to the edge of strung out.

To make matters worse, time with T'Pol had been limited. It was difficult to see her outside of work because she was staying at the Vulcan Compound and he was at Starfleet. Even though they were close enough that she could probably smell him, she might as well be on Vulcan for all the time they spent together. There was, of course, work contact, where he was Commander Tucker, He Who Must Not be Touched. They were able to get the occasional meal meal together, usually in the StarFleet Officers Club, which came with the frank, unembarrassed observation from all the Starfleet alumni who'd heard about Lorian; or a cafe close to Star Fleet, which came with frank, unembarrassed observation from the public who couldn't believe their luck at seeing two senior officers from the Enterprise, particularly one of the 'Alien' ones. He had to admit what he wanted was to just get in a car with her, drive for a couple of hours until they found some nice secluded location, get a room, and not get out of bed for a week.

Things had finally come to a head earlier that day at some public appearance or other, when a dignitary (and he used the term lightly), stood at a podium and started ranting about the alien influence on Earth, and how Earth didn't need Aliens, and how Earth had saved themselves when threatened by aliens. Ironically this had all been said in front of two aliens who had risked their lives helping Enterprise save Earth. The Starfleet PR people had bustled them away muttering something about a harmless minority when T'Pol, cool as custard, mentioned that this is not the first time she has encountered prejudice since returning to Earth and many Vulcans were beginning to feel unsafe in public and relocating to the Vulcan compound. The pressure of the past year got the better of him and Trip hit the roof.

It wasn't his proudest moment, he would freely admit that, but he did manage to get a few points across that most of the crew had be feeling. Namely, that they were tired from near constant stress for a year; and grieving lost crew members; and disoriented from coming back after a year away, to a place that had changed in response to tragedy; and they all needed a break. But what they didn't need was to go to public functions, where their trusted colleagues, and friends, were subjected to prejudiced attacks. He had not phrased all this quite so politely.

The response from the collected group had been varied. T'Pol, naturally, got all emotional and raised an eyebrow; Malcolm had given one of his tight little sarcastic smiles, which was the equivalent of a round of applause for Trip, a slap on his back and a 'jolly good show' from the reserved Britt; Hoshi had had admitted quietly that she would like some leave, if that didn't inconvenience that petaQ out there (both T'Pol's eyebrows had gone up at that so Trip knew petaQ didn't translate to honourable guest or anything similar); Phlox had simply said something about human psychology in response to stress and how it was quite a fascinating study (Trip wasn't sure which humans Phlox had been talking about). The Captain had looked around at his senior staff and said he'd talk to Command about it.

The chirp of his communicator shook Trip out of his reflections. It was the Captain.

"Trip," he said. "I spoke to Command. I got all of you four days, starting Saturday. We should have a couple more weeks of work to do after that then you'll all be released for a couple of months.

Trip sighed with relief. "Thanks, Cap'n. Sorry about tossing my toys earlier."

The Captain chuckled "It needed to said, perhaps not quite in those words. You've all been pushed hard. Starfleet should have been more considerate of that." There was a small pause. "I guess you will be heading out of town?"

"Yeah, you remember Gerry Pratt, worked with us on the Warp 5 project? He's got a place a couple of hours away, up in the Redwoods near the Russian River in Sonoma. He offered it to me not long after we got back. I might just take him up on that."

There was another pause. "So, you'll be taking T'Pol with you?"

Trip was glad it wasn't a video call, because he was pretty sure his face went bright red. "Um, I'm not certain what T'Pol will be doing." Which wasn't a complete lie, because he hadn't discussed it with her yet.

The Captain just laughed. "You know Trip, it's going to be pretty hard for me to maintain plausible deniability when I've already met your son."

Trip, not sure what to say to that, just stammered and stuttered for a bit before the Captain put him out if his misery.

"It's okay Trip, Starfleet have pretty much given me discretion to waive fraternisation rules where I see fit. It's pretty obvious the two of you have had something going on for a while. That I can't figure out when it started, points to the fact that it's not impacting your working relationship. He laughed again. "I'll see you both when you get back."

Trip shook his head and terminated the call. On the plus' side at least he didn't have an awkward conversation with Captain in his future. On the downside, T'Pol was incredibly private, hopefully she wasn't too offended by the Captain knowing.

He put a quick call through to Gerry to arrange the cabin and messaged the Starfleet carpool to see if he could take a car for private use. Then he messaged T'Pol to let her know what he had set up and check she was okay with it.

Her reply was one word, "Agreed."

It was Wednesday night. He only had to get through two more days.


	15. Chapter 14: A not very Vulcan Holiday

**Chapter 14: A not very Vulcan holiday**

On Friday, Trip collected the car and headed out across the Golden Gate Bridge just before seven that evening. He had agreed to collect T'Pol a couple of blocks from the Vulcan compound in the hopes that neither of them would be recognised.

He pulled into the designated meeting point and got the shock of his life when a glamorous woman, wearing large sunglasses, and sporting a sleek, jaw length bob with blunt cut bangs got into the car. He realised it was T'Pol as soon as she touched his hand.

"I theorised that the wig and sunglasses would be an adequate disguise." She told him. "I can see by your reaction that my hypothesis was correct."

Trip was pretty sure if she'd been human she would have been laughing. He could only theorise himself about how high her eyebrow was behind those sunglasses and bangs.

"You look like a heroine out of film noir." He told her taking in her hair and sunglasses as well as her slim, black pants and mock turtleneck; paired with a belted, half length trench coat. "I was half expecting you to tell me to listen very carefully because you would say it only once*." He joked, referencing 20th century film and television in one perplexing exchange.

T'Pol, who would never stoop being baffled by his cultural references, gave him one of her patented 'I have no idea what you are talking about' looks.

He laughed and put the car into drive, he didn't want to even begin to explain those two references.

* * *

It was dark by the time they arrived. Although it was built from wood, the cabin was not designed in a traditional forest cabin style, but was more like a 1950's modernist home with a mono-pitched roof sloping down to the back of the building. On the other side of the cabin the large, south-east facing, floor to ceiling windows and sliding glass doors, were designed catch the early sun and to take in the view, which wouldn't be visible to Trip and T'Pol until morning. To further maximise views, all the rooms were built in a line, with the living room in the centre, the master bedroom at one end and two smaller rooms at the other.

They stood for a moment in front of the inky black windows of the living area, slightly awkward all of a sudden, and looked at each other. Trip realised that this was the first time they had truly been alone together since their relationship started. It was with that thought that he had almost stripped her of her clothes right there and taken her on the rug in front of the cold, living room fire. A slight green flush spread across T'Pol's cheeks and she dropped her gaze, almost as if she could discern the direction of his thoughts.

"Um, I'll take the bags through to the bedroom." He said, suddenly unsure of himself.

He walked through to the master bedroom and placed the bags on a chair. He noticed a small pellet stove in the corner of the room and activated the ignition switch at the front after checking that the small hopper was already loaded.

"It seems somewhat primitive and inefficient to heat a home via combustion."

Trip jumped at the sound of T'Pol's voice an turned to look at her. She had followed him into the room and was looking at the little pallet stove with something akin to suspicion.

"Yeah, it is pretty old fashioned. The electricity supply in these kind of places can be a little unreliable, this kind of unit has a back up battery, that means you can get heat even if the power goes out." he looked her with a wicked look in his eye. "But there is something to be said for the romance of a fire."

His thoughts strayed back to the plush rug in front of the living room fire again as he imagined the possibilities. They stared at each other for a moment as their thoughts ran along similar paths, until they simultaneously closed the distance between them for a desperate kiss. The need of the past month roared through them and they manoeuvred themselves to the bed while, at the same time, stripping each other of their clothes.

Trip laid her down on the bed and covered her body with his own. He felt like he'd just spent the last month lost in the desert and finally come upon a sparkling oasis. He would have held back except it was clear her need was as urgent as his own. She threw back her head and gasped as he entered her, wrapping her legs around him, pulling him closer and deeper. Their coupling was frantic and raw and they reached their peak together, shattering around each other. As he emptied himself into her, Trip experienced a strange sense of dislocation as though he was simultaneously inside and outside of his own body. Like he was looking down at her and up at himself at the same time.

He collapsed on top of her drained by the intensity of their coupling. They lay like that for a while catching their breath and regaining their equilibrium. Trip finally lifted his head and kissed her gently

"Sorry about that, darlin." He said as he rolled onto his back next to her, one arm thrown across his eyes. "there was a certain lack of finesse there."

"I am not dissatisfied." She replied evenly "I believe my need was just as great."

"Still, not my best work." He joked. He removed his arm from his face and dropped his hand to stroke her hair, surprised to find she was still wearing the wig.

She suddenly sat up and straddled him, taking both his hands in hers and pinning them above his head. She lowered her head and began kissing him down his neck along his collarbone, speaking, between kisses.

"As First Officer, performance reviews are one of my responsibilities." She grazed her mouth across his. "If your efficacy has dropped, it is my duty to ensure you are brought up to standard." She started to slide down his body, gliding her hands down his arms and along his chest.

He couldn't believe the sensual, passionate, playful creature she could be when they were alone like this.

"I'm yours to command, Ma'am." He told her with absolute sincerity.

She lifted her head from his stomach and gazed at him, her expression as still as ever. Sometimes he'd swear he could feel her smile

* * *

Much later they lay together wrapped in each other's arms, basking in their post-coital glow.

Trip recalled the conversation with Captain Archer two days before. "The Captain knows about us." He told her quietly.

She was silent for a moment, processing the news. "What action does he intend to take."

"None, I think. He said he has discretion to ignore the fraternisation rules where he sees fit. Apparently we haven't let it affect our work so he's going to turn a blind eye."

"There was a chance he would have insisted that we serve on separate ships." She replied.

He sighed. "Yeah, I was worried about that too." He knew her well enough now to read her emotions between the lines.

"I would not have tolerated it if he had."

Trip almost laughed. What would she have done, stormed into the Captain's Ready Room, stamped her foot and demanded that she serve on the same ship as her human lover, or else! "Um, what would would you have done to prevent it?"

She gave him her confused look, usually reserved for when she was perplexed by cultural references and idiom.

Trip explained. "Usually when someone says they would not tolerate something, they mean they won't allow it to happen."

She narrowed her eyebrows slightly in annoyance "That is illogical. If it was a situation that I would not allow to happen, I would have said 'I would not allow that to happen.' When I say, I would not tolerate it, I mean I would have a negative physiological response to being separated from you for any significant length of time. In a similar way that Lieutenant Reed has a negative physiological response when he is exposed to certain plants."

Trip did laugh this time "Are you saying that you're allergic to not being around me?"

"No, an allergy is a hypersensitivity of the immune system to a substance in the environment that is normally tolerated by humans. It is merely a useful analogy for the physiological response that a Vulcan has to being separated from their mate."

"So we can never be apart again." The intellectual side of Trip told him he should have been bothered by that thought, but the emotional side was popping the champagne.

"As our relationship matures I believe it will be easier for me to tolerate lengthy separation, but in the short term I shall need to be in proximity to you on a regular basis." She paused for a minute unsure whether to elaborate on full nature of Vulcan bondmates.

"It is common for a psychic bond to form between mates." She told him, decision made. "The intensity varies but it is not unusual for bondmates to share emotions and thoughts, even memories in some cases. In the strongest of bonds the mates can communicate mind to mind and enter each other's meditation space."

Trip couldn't decide how he felt about this news. On the one hand, he already felt deeply connected to her; on the other, it seemed like a huge loss of privacy. "So we will develop one of these psychic bonds?"

"I do not believe so." She told him baldly. "Humans have limited psionic abilities. I do not believe it will be possible for us to form a psychic link."

Trip thought about the odd out of body experience he'd had when they made love, how sometimes he just knew what her emotions were even though she did not express them, and the connection he felt to her when they meditated. He almost told her about these strange feelings but he decided considering her telepathic skills, if he could detect a psychic link then surely she would. He reasoned the incidents were just products of his feelings for her, illusions of his mind. A worrying thought occurred to him.

"Will it be a problem for for you, not to have a bond. Will you miss it." He asked nervously.

"I do not believe so, I cannot miss what I have never experienced." She looked into his eyes. "Trip, just because there will not be a psychic connection between us does not mean we will not have a bond."

"Humans don't form bonds." He said sadly

"That is not entirely true." She shifted into 'Science Officer' mode. Humans have strong emotional bonds with each other that affect you physiologically. This is similar to some aspects of the bond that Vulcans form. I believe what we have is a bond of sorts, a hybrid of the kind of bonds each of our species form. I am deeply satisfied by it."

As was often the case, Trip had to read between the lines of her plain, direct language. She did not make emotional exclamations or embellish with hyperbole but that did not mean that her feelings for him were not deep and true. He decided that in her Vulcan way she had told him, once again, that she loved him. He realised that if he could understand and accept her Vulcan interpretation of their relationship and her way of describing it, she was capable of doing the same for him. "You make me happy too." He told her.

There was no more that needed to be said. They drifted off to sleep, each content in their relationship in the way that was most appropriate to each of their species.

* * *

Trip woke the next morning to the early sun streaming in through the bedroom windows and one of the most beautiful views he'd ever seen. T'Pol meditating, sitting bathed in sunlight, in front of the the large windows, with the redwood covered slopes as a backdrop, and not a stitch of clothing on. He decided he could definitely get used to this.

He lay on the bed for a couple of minutes, just watching her, drinking in the sight of her and marvelling that she was his. He ignored the urging of his body, which seemed to be begging him to get off the bed, rouse her from her meditative state, and make slow love to her in the sunshine. Instead he got up from the bed and joined in her meditation.

Usually he would sit opposite her, ostensibly to stare at the flame, which he did not use to enter the required state anyway. For some reason, perhaps some devil on his shoulder, he sat down behind her, so she was sitting between his legs, wrapped his arms around her and rested his chin on her shoulder. He slid easily into meditation and and centred himself on the presence of her cool, quiet mind. He remained there until T'Pol roused, bringing him out of his meditative state as well. He lacked the honed ability to be able to accurately track time during meditation so he had no idea how long they had sat there together. He felt his stomach rumble and remembered they had not eaten the night before.

He squeezed her tight and ran kisses along her shoulder. "Morning darlin, I don't know about you, but I'm feeling kind of hungry."

She tipped her head to the side, inviting his attentions further, so he continued the kisses up the side of her neck.

"As we failed to eat dinner last night it is not surprising." She replied

Neither of them made a move to get up. Trip ran his hands up her stomach and cupped her breasts as she dropped her head back onto his shoulder, he continued to kiss her neck, occasionally sweeping his tongue around her ear while he squeezed her breasts and thumbed her nipples. She gave a sudden sigh and twisted, turning until she was facing him, sitting in his lap with her legs wrapped around his hips, while capturing his mouth with hers.

They didn't eat breakfast for at least another hour.

* * *

"So," Trip asked T'Pol as they finally ate their breakfast, "what would you like to do for the next four days?"

T'Pol looked thoughtful for a moment before she answered "I have never taken a holiday, in the human sense, before." She told him.

Trip looked sceptical "So Vulcans just work all the time?"

"No, we take time to pursue our own interests but it is more structured than the somewhat laissez-faire approach humans often take to their leisure time. A Vulcan would not leave home and go to a new location for four days with no plan for how to spend their time."

Trip grinned at her "I see," he said speculatively "Did you do your research and plan an itinerary for for the next four days?"

"I admit, that would have been my preference and I felt illogical not doing so, but I decided to experiment with the experience of a human style holiday to see if there is any merit in it for a Vulcan." She told him.

"But you think there is merit in it for humans?"

"Of course! The pressure of work causes stress for most humans. Stress causes a build up of cortisol in your bodies, which you can tolerate for a short period but longer exposure will shorten human life expectancy." T'Pol never stopped being a scientist.

"So do you think there may be benefits to Vulcans as well? You don't experience stress."

"That is true, but I am keeping an open mind, as you say. Perhaps there will be some unexpected results."

Trip had to smile to himself. He had noticed that in order to cope with the human style holiday, she had turned the whole trip into an experiment of sorts, thus placing a framework of structure over it. He'd die before he pointed that out to her though.

"Okay," He said as he got up from the table "as the human on this experiment I guess it is my job to 'not plan' our activities for the next four days."

"I am yours to command." She responded, using his words from the night before.

He looked at her intensely for a moment, memories of the night before flashing through his head, and proceeded to pull to the bedroom for another session of unplanned recreation.

* * *

True to her word, T'Pol refrained from planning activities and let Trip guide them. Under his expert guidance they holidayed in the great Earthen tradition in which they did lots of not doing much at all.

T'Pol put her wig back on and they drove back along the perilous, narrow, twisting road to Guerneville, stocked up on some supplies from the general store and had lunch at the local diner where they were the subject of numerous furtive stares. T'Pol considered the possibility that they had been recognised but Trip, who had skipped a day shaving and was wearing ripped jeans, a faded sweatshirt and a twenty year old gators cap, told her it was probably because they thought he was rich. Considering his state of dress, she expressed considerable skepticism that he would be considered wealthy. Whereby he advised her that it was the only logical explanation as to what such a stone cold beauty like her was doing with a slob like him.

They hiked the simple trails around the cabin while conducting a heated debate about the relative merits of ring nacelle versus twin nacelle configurations for warp field generation. They continued the discussion through the preparation and eating of lunch and the clean up afterwards. In the end Trip agreed to disagree and T'Pol agreed to accept that his logic would never be up to the task of fully understanding the benefits of the ring nacelle.

Trip coaxed T'Pol into the hot tub that sat on platform built out over the edge of the slope, set in a ring of redwoods. Despite her protestations that she had not brought her bathing suit, He assured her that no bathing suit was required. Once immersed in the hot water, it didn't take him long to persuade her of his position. During the following days he convinced her of several 'positions' in the hot tub.

They spent one rainy afternoon cuddling on the large sofa, staring into the fire, inadvertently slipping into a long, deep meditative state that persisted the entire afternoon. While T'Pol agreed that the meditation had been very restorative, she was still sceptical about the value of a fire.

T'Pol had an encounter of the furred kind with a couple of raccoons at the back of the house and became fascinated by them, particularly their dextrous front paws. She downloaded several articles and over the course of the next day became an expert in all things ' _Procyon loto_ '. After what felt like a month of being lectured to about the behaviour, biology, reproduction, geographical distribution and intelligence of raccoons, Trip laughed and told her they were vermin. T'Pol gave him a cold look, shades of the first year on Enterprise, and told him that, as a native species to the American continent, _Procyon lot_ o had shown remarkable adaptability in the face of massive habitat change. Further, it could be argued, that considering humans were an introduced species in North America; that their population had grown exponentially over the past four centuries; that they had affected significant change to the environment and caused the extinction of numerous species, humans themselves could be classified as vermin. Trip laughed again and said it was lucky it hadn't been bears she'd seen looking for food, and went back to reading his warp engineering journal.

T'Pol started researching bears and he began to get worried that there may be another hike in their near future. A couple of hours later T'Pol looked up from her research an announced that an encounter with a bear was quite unlikely at this location as they would still be in hibernation at this time of year. However her research on the fauna of North America actually indicated that, if luck could be applied to the mammals they did and did not come across, then their lack of encounter with a skunk should certainly come in that category. In this matter, Trip whole heartedly agreed with her.

They performed neuro-pressure on each other in front of the fire and made slow sweet love afterwards. T'Pol later agreed that there was much to said in favour of a fire after all. They prepared meals, they did not finish, a different hunger overtaking them, coming out in the morning to find the remains of last night's dinner still on the table. They spent their nights making love, slept late in the morning, meditated then went straight back to bed for a couple of hours.

As he directed the car towards home at the end of the fourth day, Trip thought it was the best holiday of his life.

* * *

"Well," He asked her after they'd been driving for a while. "What are the preliminary results of your human holiday experiment?"

"It has been a satisfactory experience." She replied.

To Trip that sounded like high praise.

"I perceive some benefits to an organic approach to choosing activities. Had I planned the holiday I would probably not have encountered _Procyon loto_ or taken time to educate myself about such a fascinating creature."

Trip smirked, he was pretty sure she thought raccoons were cute but would be insulted if he suggested it. "Was that all?" He asked.

"No, I was able to achieve some extremely deep meditation, I believe the relaxed nature of the holiday may have precipitated this. Of course my experiment only has a one subject, so it cannot in any way be considered definitive, but I believe there may be some benefit to Vulcans to take this kind of holiday occasionally."

"That's good, it looks like we both had a good break then. I guess I will have to take a Vulcan holiday now to see if there would some benefit to humans." He grinned. "In the interest of science of course."

T'Pol took a deep breath and looked at him. "That would be agreeable." She told him. "It has been my intention to invite you to accompany me to Vulcan to meet my mother."

Trip couldn't believe it, he'd been waiting for this moment for almost three years and had been certain this opportunity would never come. "Meeting your mother, huh? If I'm not mistaken, on some planets that's a precursor to marriage." Trip schooled his expression and did not take his eyes of the road.

T'Pol graced him with the eyebrow of death. "I believe I apologised to you for my treatment of you in the aftermath of the Zyrillian incident."

Trip couldn't contain his laughter anymore and decided to put her out of her misery quickly. "You did, and the fact that I'm prepared to joke with you about it, shows I have no hard feelings at all." He took her hand a gave it a squeeze. "And I would be delighted to go to Vulcan with you and meet your mother."

He thought for a little bit before he asked "What does she know about me? About us?

"I've never mentioned you." She admitted

Trip wasn't sure if that was a good or a bad thing. "So you'd introduce me as?"

"Commander Charles Tucker the third, my mate and intended husband." She looked at him, as expressionless as ever but Trip sensed her nervousness.

He squeezed her hand again. "That sounds about right to me." he confirmed gently.

She took a deep breath and looked back at the road. Trip let go of her hand, and returned his hand to the steering wheel, processing the idea that he was pretty sure he just got engaged. After several minutes another thought occurred to him.

"What's your mother like." He asked trying to form a picture of the woman he would meet in a few weeks time.

"She is Vulcan." Was T'Pol's reply

Okay, Trip thought, 'nuff said.

* * *

 _*this was the catch phrase of the character Michelle from the British comedy "Allo Allo"_

 _T'Pol said this to Trip after being informed of his pregnancy in the episode "Unexpected"_


	16. Chapter 15: Home is where

_All the remaining chapters will be set during the episode 'Home'._

 _We we are getting to the home straight (no pun intended). It has taken a bit longer to get these next chapters written because, although I had a good idea of what would happen, I had not actually written anything. I had intended the events in my "Home" to be two more chapters. After I started writing things got a little out of hand and there will probably be about 6 more after this._

 _T'Pol's theories about humans' unsuitability for emotional suppression are all mine but I based them on Dr Paul MacLean's Theory of the Triune Brian._

* * *

 **Chapter 15: Home is where...**

T'Les entered the house and observed her daughter sitting at a small living room desk reading a PADD. It had been a surprise when T'Pol had arrived home the day before accompanied by the human and T'Les' suspicions had been aroused immediately. Although T'Les had not noticed any inappropriate contact between the two and Commander Tucker slept in the guest room, it was not difficult to discern a strong attachment between them.

T'Pol rose from her seat and greeted T'Les. "Mother, I trust your study group was enlightening."

"It was." T'Les responded succinctly. Conversational niceties were unnecessary.

"What topic does your group examine?" T'Pol expected it to be related to the work T'Les had done at the Science Academy but was surprised by her mother's reply.

"We study the teachings of Surak and attempt to find new perspectives in his work." T'Les told her with typical Vulcan flatness.

T'Pol's response to this was a raised eyebrow. The current version of Surak's teaching was generally accepted as fact. To look for different perspectives was tantamount to heresy.

"Do you and Commander Tucker have plans for your day, Daughter?" Not wishing to enter a conversation about her association with the Syrannites, T'Les quickly changed the topic.

"I believe Commander Tucker is still acclimatising to the higher temperature and thinner atmosphere of Vulcan. I anticipated this and did not schedule any activities for him today. I have arranged to meet with some former colleagues who also have an interest in micro-singularities." T'Pol told her.

"And Koss?" T'Less watched closely as T'Pol took a deep breath then pressed her lips together, narrowing her eyes slightly.

"I have arranged to meet him this morning. I expect him to arrive in seventy eight minutes." T'Pol replied cooly.

T'Les knew her daughter well enough to know when further discussion on a topic was not invited.

"What is Commander Tucker doing now?" She asked instead.

"I believe he is taking a shower and then he plans to examine your stasis unit."

T'Les considered the human, she was surprised at how calm he was. She had very little direct experience with humans and had been led to believe they were rampantly emotional. Certainly, Commander Tucker expressed an emotion of some sort most of the time but he seemed more than capable of some logical functioning even with the constant parade of emotions that must pass through his mind. Without doubt his emotions did not hinder his ability to speak, he seemed to produce a near constant stream of patter regardless of the participation of either her or T'Pol in the conversation. Her daughter had lived among these people for three years and was clearly close to Commander Tucker, She decided that perhaps T'Pol could provide insight into his behaviour.

"Is it necessary for Commander Tucker to talk incessantly? It is an illogical habit. Much of the time he is imparting information of little or no relevance to either of us." T'Les asked baldly.

"It is a function of his social nature, Mother." T'Pol was not surprised or offended by the question. She had observed her mother's perplexity at the Commander's more human behaviour and T'Pol knew T'Les was only seeking to understand him better. "Humans have evolved to be a part of large social groups that extend far beyond immediate family. They maintain these bonds through this kind of talk. As you are my mother, he considers you to be part of his social group. He is trying to establish a bond with you in the human manner."

"How do you interpret the constantly changing emotions he expresses with his features. Surely it is a distraction?" The scientist in T'Les was suddenly intrigued. Among Vulcans the general consensus about humans was that they were illogical and undisciplined. She had never met a Vulcan who had analysed their behaviour from a different perspective.

"I admit, when I first began working among humans, I found that their emotional expressiveness to be a distraction. I have come to understand that much of their communication is non verbal and their emotions are part of this. I am now more adept at deciphering these non verbal cues. It has improved my communication with the crew." For T'Pol it was refreshing to discuss what she had learned about humans over the past three years without concern that they would be insulted by Vulcan bluntness.

"And you have become more emotionally expressive yourself." T'Les was unable to keep disapproval out of her voice. T'Pol had always been excessively emotional, it was unfortunate to find her more so after her long association with humans.

"Perhaps," T'Pol was well aware of what her mother was inferring, so she was careful to keep any emotion out of her face and voice. "It is not surprising, given that the majority of my communication over the past three years has been with humans. It does not follow that I am more emotional, just more willing to express some emotion. Humans would most certainly not define me as emotionally expressive."

"I am surprised that you have been able to endure this behaviour for three years. Surely it is time to return to Vulcan, you would be more comfortable amongst your own people." T'Les looked questioningly at T'Pol. T'Pol's announcement that she was taking a commission with Starfleet had surprised T'Les, she felt duty bound to recommend to T'Pol the benefits of returning to Vulcan.

"I am not uncomfortable amongst humans. I have become accustomed to their behaviour. I can see the value it affords them, given their emotional natures." T'Pol responded. T'Les was surprised by her quiet acceptance of humans' emotional natures.

"But you have not instructed them in the practice of Vulcan emotional discipline?" From what other Vulcans had told her, T'Les was under the impression that humans would benefit greatly from learning Vulcan emotional suppression

"I have taught a few members of the crew some techniques, but only those that have expressed an interest." T'Pol paused, deciding whether or not to expand on her answer and reveal more private aspects of her relationship with Trip. "I regularly meditate with Commander Tucker, for instance." She elaborated, hoping the information would soften her mother's attitude towards the human. "But full emotional suppression in the Vulcan manner would not be suitable for humans." T'Pol added, almost as an afterthought.

"In what way?" Once again T'Les was intrigued. This hypothesis had never been put forward in any of her discussions about humans.

"The human brain is organised differently to the Vulcan brain. Unlike Vulcan brains, the section of the human brain that controls higher order brain functions such as cognition, motor commands, language, and spatial reasoning; is relatively separate from the emotional centres of the brain." T'Pol started to get into the topic, the scientist came to the forefront. "This means that humans can perform complex reasoning and motor skills while simultaneously processing emotions. Conversely the emotional centres of their brain are closely linked to their endocrine system and the autonomic nervous system. Emotional suppression can disrupt these essential systems. Something I have seen occur with Commander Tucker." T'Pol informed her.

"Indeed," both T'Les' eyebrows went up. "I am surprised Commander Tucker has any skills related to emotional suppression." Her tone was noticeably acerbic.

"I can see why you would make that assessment," T'Pol ignored her mother's sarcasm. It was not unusual for Vulcans to hold the same opinions as T'Les was expressing. T'Pol herself had thought similarly when she had first joined Enterprise. Her experience with the human crew had forced her to reassess her prejudices and examine human behaviour from a scientific perspective. "And I am aware that the High Command was of the same opinion when he was selected as Chief Engineer for Enterprise. However, much of his emotional expression is related to communication. He is considered open, friendly and honest by many humans and as a consequence is well liked and respected by his colleagues and staff. Converse to his seemingly chaotic emotional expression, his is the most efficient and organised department on the ship." T'Pol hoped she was not being too complementary of Trip, she was aware it would not endear her mother to him.

"But you have observed him suppressing emotions?" T'Les was starting to come to the conclusion that there was much about humans that was misunderstood by Vulcans. She wondered what role the High Command played in that. The organisation seemed intent, most illogically, on isolating Vulcan from potential allies.

"Indeed, when his sister was killed in the Xindi attack on Earth." T'Pol experienced a moment of disquiet before she continued, and hoped she was not revealing information that Trip would consider private. Humans and Vulcans had such different ideas about what information it was suitable to discuss with others. "Because we were in space at the time of her death and we had to ship out again shortly after our return, he was not able to perform the grieving rituals common to his culture. He was also required to function at an extremely high level while we were in the Delphic Expanse. Both of these factors meant he was unable to process his grief and his response was to suppress it. The affect on his health was catastrophic. In light of this, I would not recommend complete emotional suppression to any human."

"If we can not expect humans to adopt Vulcan mental disciplines, it suggests an even greater need for our guidance. Surely your observations demonstrate they are incapable on the logical reasoning required for further development."

T'Les suggestions were not new arguments. T'Pol was cognisant of the fact they were ones she had herself made when she first began to serve amongst humans. She had long since realised that her experience among humans could be of great benefit to Vulcan, if they were to accept her views.

"It is true," she agreed with a thoughtful look "humans could benefit from a Vulcan perspective, and indeed do on Enterprise. However, I have come to the conclusion that they have something to offer Vulcan as well."

"In what respect?" T'Les had never heard this position before.

"They are highly motivated, their emotions drive them to achieve at a much higher rate than Vulcans. They are more likely to take risks, which increases the chance of failure, but also affords them greater opportunities for success. Their emotional approach to problems presents them with solutions to that would never occur to Vulcans. Their highly social, yet conversely independent minds, allow them to come together to negotiate solutions, but also makes them receptive to dissent. They do not just tolerate, but actively encourage ideas that challenge accepted knowledge." It wasn't just a list of how their emotions served them that had convinced T'Pol of the developmental trajectory of humans, it was when she had looked at their recent history and compared it to Vulcan. "All these factors drive their development forward at an exponential rate. It took Vulcan two thousand years to achieve the technological advancements they have made in the past two hundred years alone. I have every reason to believe they will continue to advance."

"You sound as if you admire them." For a Vulcan this was tantamount to an insult. T'Pol was aware that her mother was attempting to provoke an emotional response and did not rise to the bait.

"I have come to respect them." She responded maintaining her still gaze on her mother.

"You have formed an emotional connection with them?" T'Les was aware she was being provocative but some devil on her shoulder was urging her on, telling her T'Pol's association with the humans had been ill advised.

"It is likely, particularly amongst those I work with most closely, that they feel an emotional connection to me. It is a part of their nature." T'Pol neatly sidestepped the question. It was not appropriate to admit to emotional attachments even if they were perfectly natural. "I have formed relationships with many people that would, in human terms, be considered friendship."

"And this is the nature of your relationship with Commander Tucker?" T'Les finally got to the question she had wanted answered from the moment she saw the Commander in her courtyard.

"No," fortunately T'Pol had prepared herself for this line of questioning as soon as she decided to invite Trip to join her on Vulcan. "My connection with Trip is more profound."

"You would pursue a relationship with this human over that of a Vulcan." T'Les asked, aghast. The significance of T'Pol's use of Commander Tucker's nickname was not lost on her. "Humans have no psionic abilities, you will never be able to bond with him."

"We have formed a bond of sorts, true it does not have a psychic component, but I find my relationship with him to be deeply satisfying."

"The psychic bond you will form with Koss would be satisfying as well." It was disquieting to hear T'Pol speak of her connection to the human as a bond. T'Les began to foresee difficulties in the days ahead.

"There is little evidence of that." T'Pol retorted, some emotion finally bleeding into her voice. "I have never felt any connection to Koss despite the betrothal bond that was initiated when were young. We are very different in our interests and natures. I am convinced that any matebond that formed between us would be superficial in its nature. I have always felt an aversion to deepening my relationship with him." T'Les was not surprised by this pronouncement. She had often observed in T'Pol, a great indifference towards Koss. But she saw the marriage as a logical way to bind T'Pol to Vulcan.

"You are already somewhat ostracised from Vulcan society. A relationship with a human will only worsen that." T'Les could feel her own emotions building. She had underestimated her daughter, expecting her to acquiesce to traditional Vulcan wisdom and see the logic of marriage to Koss. She had not been prepared for how far T'Pol was willing distance herself from her people and build a life with another species.

"I am accepted among the humans I work with and within Starfleet in general. I am considered a hero on Earth because of my part in ending the Xindi threat. If I am cast out of Vulcan, I am confident I can maintain a position within human society on my own merit. I can make a home among humans." T'Pol had recognised her changed status on Vulcan some time ago. It had only made it easier for her to resign from the High Command to enter the Expanse, and pursue her relationship with Trip.

T'Pol never got to hear T'Les' response to that statement. A small noise from the south end of the house alerted the women that Trip was approaching and the conversation was abruptly terminated.

Trip entered the living area and greeted the mother and daughter with typical human enthusiasm.

T'Pol returned his greeting and walked over to him. She advised him that she would meditate while he worked on the stasis unit and told him she would direct him to some tools. He gave her a soft smile in return and turned to follow her as she left the room.

T'Les watched their disappearing backs and pondered the discussion with her daughter. T'Les was disturbed to note that she had blindly accepted the prejudiced assessment of humans that was common on Vulcan. Her daughter's perspective was far more balanced and better informed than any T'Les had previously encountered, although much of the information T'Pol had provided should be readily available to other Vulcans. It should not surprise her that humans were more capable than the High Command would have Vulcans believe. She had her own foremother's stories of Earth that contradicted much that the High Command touted as fact. T'Pol was also correct in her assessment of their technological development. The Earth that T'Mir had lived on just two hundred years ago was the technological equivalent of Vulcan during Surak's time.

T'Les had encouraged Koss to pursue the betrothal as she saw it as a way to reintegrate T'Pol into Vulcan society. She was aware that should her own association with the Syrannites became widely known, T'Pol's reputation would be further tainted by their relationship. Now she was faced with the prospect that T'Pol was satisfied with her position among humans, was forming meaningful bonds with them and was indifferent to her status on Vulcan.

She began to doubt the logic of the course she had chosen. She had always been aware of T'Pol's aversion to Koss and did not disagree that there was a certain lack of compatibility in their natures. T'Pol's relationship with Commander Tucker was most disturbing in the fact that it indicated T'Pol had formed a strong relationship that would only greatly increase her reluctance to bond with Koss and further separate her from her own species, and her home.

She sighed and looked out the window at the sun, she would need to tend the garden and complete the day's harvest before the heat of the day became too great. Then she would meditate. The conversation with her daughter had aroused many troubling emotions.


	17. Chapter 16: Never coming home

**Chapter 16: Never coming home**

Trip had to admit it wasn't a dream holiday. He hadn't expected it to be easy. He had expected resistance from T'Les, accusations that T'Pol was acting emotionally, that she was betraying her culture - those sorts of things. But a fiancee, he hadn't been expecting that.

He opened his eyes and looked at T'Pol. She was sitting serenely opposite him, supposedly meditating, but he knew she hadn't reached the deep state she would usually achieve. He was starting to get worried. It was three days since Koss had turned up at T'Les' door and she hadn't achieved full meditation since that time. He wasn't sure what to do for her. He was pretty sure she wasn't sleeping, her appetite was gone, and she was, for lack of better word, emotional.

They were attempting an early meditation session together, while T'Les was at one of her study groups. He had suggested neuro-pressure but she had rejected the idea, pointing out, completely accurately, that it would probably lead to sex. He had jokingly asked if that would be such a bad thing under the circumstances. She had given him the 'eyebrow' and told him that, if they engaged in intercourse, T'Les would detect the odour immediately upon her return. It was more information than he wanted. He guessed it was pretty likely Vulcan teens didn't mess around under those conditions.

Over the last couple of days T'Pol had gone with T'Les to negotiate with Koss and his family. Every afternoon she had come home bristling with rage. He'd wanted to suggest neuro-pressure several times but some instinct had kept his mouth shut, quite wisely, he now thought in retrospect. Instead, he felt like he was watching T'Pol fall apart in front of him. He came out of his thoughts to find T'Pol regarding him frankly.

"Any luck?" He asked, even though he knew the answer.

"It was fine" she replied. He knew she was lying. 'Fine' was her catch-all for 'it's not what it should be but I don't want to talk about it'. He couldn't see the benefit of pointing out the lie. She was under enough stress as it was.

"Okay," he pretended not to notice her evasion. "Perhaps another session after dinner?"

"Perhaps." She turned her head away from him as she spoke. He wasn't sure if she did it because she was lying about meditating later or just trying to conceal her despair.

"How did the negotiations go today?" He wished he had a happier topic to cover but the truth was the situation was driving him insane as well and he wanted to know what was being discussed.

"Mother suggested that they waive the requirement that I have to live with the groom for one year." T'Pol told him, thinking this was good news.

"You would have to live with him after the wedding?" He felt like his world had dropped out from beneath him.

"I would not do it." She was suddenly shaken out of her despair. "If I was required to remain on Vulcan, I would live here, with mother. I will not live with him. I will not!" She wasn't shouting by the end of her protestation but her voice was filled with intensity, and he could sense the underlying rage. She spoke with a level of emotion that he'd never heard in her voice before. He thought back to their trip to the cabin, less than a month before, when she had told him she wouldn't tolerate being separated from him. Was this what she had meant.

"Did he accept that?" When T'Pol had first told him that she was still expected to honour her engagement to Koss, she had been adamant that they should leave immediately. He had been the one to talk her out of it. He had been concerned about the long term implications for her on Vulcan, her relationship with her mother, that if she left under those circumstances she would never be able to come back. Now he was wondering if he should have listened to her. She seemed to be falling apart before his very eyes, and Koss and his family were not backing down.

"He was reluctant, but my mother made some logical arguments in favour of it. I believe she can make him see the rationale of her argument." She took a deep breath and looked at him. "Trip, if he consents to me leaving, I can never come back." Her anger had dissipated, seemingly as quickly as it had flared.

Trip felt a knot building in his stomach when her words echoed his earlier thoughts, what was she planning. "I don't understand?"

"You are my mate, my t'hyla." Something in Trip's soul hummed when she spoke. They belonged to each other, no one could keep them apart. "I will stand with Koss before the Priest, and he will speak the ancient words of the bonding, but it will be a legal contract only." At her words Trip felt strange rage begin to build in him. She was his and he would kill any man who tried to come between them. "I will fulfil my duty to my mother as a good Vulcan should. She will regain her position at the Science Academy and in Vulcan Society. But after the ceremony you and I will leave. We will go back to Enterprise, and everything will remain the same between us. I will never return to Vulcan. We will not be able to marry, but I hope you will not see that as an impediment to our continuing a relationship." She said all this to him with resolve clear in her voice and features. Trip conversely tried to come to terms with the direction his thoughts were taking. He wanted kill Koss, to wipe him from existence, for the primal sin of attempting to come between Trip and his mate.

As if she knew what he was thinking she reached out to him and he took her hand. "I will not leave you, Trip. I cannot." Her voice was filled with despair and his rage dissipated. Years ago he had wondered what person had to do to break through her Vulcan reserve. Now he knew, and it was breaking his heart.

He looked at her taking in her appearance. There were dark, greenish circles under her eyes, her skin, which usually seemed to glow with health, looked waxy and sallow, even after just a few days she seemed to have gone from slim, to skeletal. Her eyes flickered about the room as if no one thing could hold her attention for more than a few moments. She moved from rage to despair, to manic optimism and back again without any obvious triggers. Trip couldn't help but be concerned that this situation was somehow pushing her into madness.

He looked down at her hand, laying in his, he could feel it trembling. He wondered how quickly her Pa'nar syndrome could progress if she was under stress. Perhaps a call to Phlox was in order, if Phlox would even talk to him about her condition. Maybe he should talk to T'Les instead, surely she had noticed the wreak her daughter had become in just a few days. With his free hand he squeezed his eyes, at the same time he attempted to stomp on his rising panic, he had to hold himself together for T'Pol, but he felt powerless to help her.

"Look, we'll do what we have to do to get through this. I don't want to be parted from you either. But I don't want you to lose your place in Vulcan society. Your Vulcan identify is important to you." He wished he was psychic, that he could absorb her emotions and transfer her some peace. But he could only be human. He could only respond to her emotions with more emotions. He suddenly felt, for the first time, that he was inadequate in his humanness, that she would be better off with a Vulcan.

She started to reply, but suddenly she shut her mouth and let go of his hand. He narrowed his eyes wondering what had brought on the sudden change when he heard the front door open, T'Les was home.


	18. Chap 17 What to wear to a Vulcan wedding

**Chapter 17: What to wear to a Vulcan wedding**

T'Les emerged from her meditation and observed her daughter sitting opposite her. The negotiations with Koss and his family had been trying and the aroused many emotions that must be suppressed. A good meditation session in the aftermath had been essential. Ostensibly, T'Pol was meditating as well. T'Les observed her with a keen eye. She noted T'Pol's eyes flicking beneath her lids, the tension in her shoulders, the occasional shift in her posture and the slight shake in her hands. All these things pointed loudly to the fact that T'Pol was barely reaching a first level state. It was disquieting.

She thought back to the intense way the Commander has been watching her daughter for the past few days. Like an overprotective parent waiting for a newly walking child to fall, he had hovered over T'Pol, bringing her food, urging her to meditate, suggesting that she sleep. T'Les had suppressed some annoyance at his fussing, but now, looking at her daughter failing to achieve a state of meditation that even a five year old Vulcan could master, she considered that he had been observing something in her daughter that she herself had refused to see.

T'Les rose gracefully from the meditation cushion without disturbing her daughter, and followed her ears and nose to the back of the house, to find Trip servicing the condenser for the climate control unit. If nothing else, T'Les thought pragmatically, this week had resulted in every single one of her appliances being serviced, fixed or upgraded in the human's attempts to distract himself from the knowledge of her daughter's impending marriage. She would have to arrange for him to visit the following year, she thought sourly, so he could repeat his good work.

Trip heard the back door close and looked up from the filter he had been attending to with the small sonic cleaner T'Pol had shown him on their first day on Vulcan. The scarcity of water on Vulcan meant such devices were common place and he had been fascinated enough to pull it apart and reassemble it to get a better concept of how it worked. He was fairly confident he could reverse engineer a similar unit for the Enterprise which would institute greater water conservation for the ship. When he saw T'Les coming towards him, he was aware she would only seek him out if she had something specific to speak about.

"How can I help you T'Les." He asked politely.

It was fascinating, T'Les noticed, there seemed to be such a culture of service amongst humans, as if they were the galaxy's waiters, always eager to attend you. It seemed so at odds with T'Pol's assessment that they could become leaders in the sector.

"I was wondering if you were able to reach your friend on the communicator?" She asked. After her conversation with T'Pol about humans, she had begun to observe his behaviour and had noticed that he rarely began a conversation with the item pertinent to him. He seemed to have the illogical habit of asking about something that was of no interest to him whatsoever but was important to the person he was talking to. T'Les suppressed a feeling of faint ridiculousness at the irrelevant question, in whose answer she had little interest, but she tried to follow her daughter's example and communicate with him in his own terms to smooth the process.

"I did, thanks," he smiled one his polite smiles, that T'Les interpreted as meaning he acknowledged her good manners and her interest in his life. T'Les felt a sudden surge of satisfaction at her recognition of his signals. T'Pol was right, their emotions were like a language, it would be fascinating to study and catalogue them from a scientific perspective. She forged ahead gaining confidence in this new language she was learning.

"And was your conversation satisfactory?" She watched him closely. The emotions could be fleeting, so full attention was required. She was surprised to see a number of negative emotions cross his face. She recognised anger, frustration, panic. She wondered if the question was inappropriate. T'Pol had warned her that Vulcans and humans often had different ideas about what constituted private information, perhaps she had crossed some line.

"I wouldn't say it was satisfactory." He said resignedly. He looked up at her and stuck his tongue into his cheek. She observed the behaviour carefully, trying to interpret it alongside his words. She drew the conclusion that it was not her question that had provoked the negative emotions, but the content of the call itself. Now he was considering how much to reveal to her.

Trip looked up at T'Les, observing him so intently he felt like a bug under a microscope, and wondered how much he should tell her. The call she seemed so interested in had been to Phlox. It had taken him several days to track Phlox down. The Denobulan had travelled to Mars to meet with a large group of his family who seemed to have rented an entire hotel and, it transpired, he was never in the same room twice, if he was at the hotel at all. Trip felt like he'd spent two days talking with every member of Phlox's family, including an extremely uncomfortable conversation with Feezal, who had twittered and flirted with him to the point that he had wanted to vomit into his plomeek broth, all without seeing hide nor hair of the man himself.

Finally that morning, while T'Pol and T'Les were at the negotiations, an extremely jovial Phlox had returned Trip's calls. As he had told T'Les, the conversation had not been satisfactory. Phlox, bound by his oaths, could not give specific details about T'Pol's condition so they had danced around the topic talking generalities and hypotheticals, all in a very specific way.

The news had not been good. In theory, Phlox agreed that a Vulcan suffering from Pa'nar and showing symptoms Trip had described, may be suffering a progression of the disease. It was likely, given the disease's affect on the neural pathways and the endocrine system, that a Vulcan experiencing extreme stress, would suffer progression of the disease. It could also create a kind of negative feedback loop, in which the stress triggered the disease; which would affect sleep, meditation and appetite; which would in turn increase stress; which would cause further progression of the disease and so on.

Yes the progression could be rapid. Yes, treatment provided early enough will prevent permanent damage. No, any treatments the, hypothetical Vulcan already had would not address the current imbalance. Said Vulcan would need to consult a medical professional and have a serum formulated specifically to balance precise enzymes and hormones that had fluctuated in response to the stress event. No there is no Doctor on Vulcan that can treat the disease, the only Vulcan he knew of that researched this syndrome worked at a private institute on a colony.

Yep, that call had been deeply unsatisfactory. Now the mother of that self same 'hypothetical' Vulcan was examining him like a lab specimen. To make matters worse he couldn't figure which was worse: if T'Pol never forgave him for telling her mother about her illness; or if he never forgave himself for not telling her. It occurred to him there was nothing T'Les could do even if he did tell her, it would only add to everyone's worry.

"I have a friend, who's ill. I was just following up on her condition." He told T'Les eventually. Not a lie, but not the truth. T'Les didn't have to be an expert in human body language to know that Trip was equivocating. She deduced he had sought some kind of advice about T'Pol's odd behaviour but if he declined to tell her it remained his private business.

"I thought you would like to know that the negotiations were completed today." In the end T'Les was Vulcan and one did not pry into the private matters of others, no matter what their species. "T'Pol and Koss will perform the ceremony tomorrow."

"So soon?" Trip's face was a study of grief. It didn't take a student of human emotions to identify it.

"It would be illogical to delay." Her eyebrows arched, questioning his surprise. To her the timing was obvious, there was nothing to wait for. Vulcans approached weddings in same way they approached all things, without emotion.

"Koss has agreed to waive, for one year, the requirement that T'Pol to reside with him. She has indicated her duties at Starfleet require her to report urgently to Earth and she has arranged transport for you both the day after tomorrow." This time Trip's eyebrows had gone up. Either T'Pol had told an outright lie, or T'Les was paraphrasing with impunity. Trip had thought about what T'Pol had told him three days ago.

"She won't come back here, you know, not as long as she's married to him." he told T'Les candidly. He figured T'Les should know she would never see her daughter again. "She's doing this for you, so you can get your job back. She's prepared to pay the price and marry him, but the price you have to pay is not seeing her again."

T'Les' expression did not change. "I had deduced that that was her intention" Vulcans lived a long time, they learned to use never carefully. "Her life will be longer than yours, at least this will leave her the option to return if she desires it".

"Isn't there any other way?" He suddenly asked, desperation making him more human in his interactions.

T'Les regarded him frankly. There was, of course, another way. It would seem barbaric to a human but it was accepted as part of Vulcan culture. She had debated whether to provide him this information, but her observation that T'Pol was not coping with the idea of marriage had made up her mind. She would supply the human with this knowledge of Vulcan tradition. What he did with it would be his decision.

"There is the kal-if-fee." Trip looked up sharply. Perhaps there was hope.

"What? What is that. Why aren't we doing that?" Trip was like a condemned man being offered a stay of execution.

"It is the challenge. Another potential mate may challenge Koss for the right to T'Pol's hand." She could see the hope in Trip's face. It was illogical that he did not deduce there was a fatal disadvantage to the Kal-if-fee, or T'Pol would have declared it immediately. "The two males must fight to the death for the right to mate with the female."

To the death! Trip's mouth hung open, his eyes wide. He considered fighting Koss to the death. As a Vulcan Koss would be stronger and better adapted to the environment than Trip. But Trip had recent training in hand-to-hand combat. Maybe he could take him, but what if he failed. T'Pol would still have to marry the guy. He shook himself, surprised at how easily he accepted the idea of killing someone to keep T'Pol safe. He looked up at T'Les who was observing him as the emotions passed over his face while he assessed his options. Suddenly a pertinent factor occurred to him and she noted the evidence of it in his expression. He sighed and rubbed a hand over his eyes. "I guess Koss' father is pretty unlikely to give you your job back if I kill his son?"

"It does seem improbable." She agreed with a slight sparkle in her eye. Trip detected just a hint of amusement in her voice it could be the obviousness of his statement or perhaps it was his assumption that he could kill Koss.

T'Les watched the human as he considered his options and was surprised at the certainty that, whatever course he chose, it would be the one which he assessed as being in the best interests of her daughter. She realised that she respected this human. Once she had been advised to look past her prejudices against his species, she had discovered an intelligent, honourable man who would be a good mate to her daughter. She must content herself with that.

Trip smiled at her sadly. "So, what do you wear to a Vulcan wedding?"


	19. Chapter 18: Schrödinger's Wedding

_Schrödinger's Cat is a famous thought experiment conceived of by Erwin Schrödinger as a discussion of Quantum Supposition. I know less about Quantum physics than I do hand-to-hand combat, so that's all I'm saying on the matter._

* * *

 **Chapter 18: Schrödinger's Wedding**

Trip lay in bed, trying to sleep, trying not to think of the wedding tomorrow, trying not to think of killing Koss. He was achieving a 100% failure rate on all that trying, 'You go, Champ' he thought. No matter how much he attempted to lecture himself about how inappropriate it was to kill a man to stop him from marrying your girlfriend, Trip just could not seem to let the idea go. It's not like he would be breaking any law on Vulcan, according to T'Les it was a perfectly acceptable method of getting a bride out of an unwanted betrothal. It all seemed so illogical, but at the same time so... right.

Trip was startled out if his reflections on the homicide of Koss by a soft tap on his door. He knew without asking that it was T'Pol. He didn't have to be a great psychic to figure it out, he was pretty sure T'Les wouldn't be making midnight visits to her human guest's boudoir.

"Come in". The door opened and he saw T'Pol standing in the doorway. She stood there for a moment, silhouetted by the dim half light that constituted Vulcan night, and looked at Trip without saying anything. After a moment of watching each other, Trip turned back the covers on the bed and held out his hand to her. She closed the door quietly and moved across the room, silent as cat, and slipped into bed next him, shuffling up close and resting her head on his chest.

"What will your mother think if she finds you in here like this on the night before your wedding?" He asked flippantly.

"She will endure."

Trip snorted with laughter. He couldn't help but think that was a very accurate estimation.

They were silent for a moment, enjoying the feeling of being close again. Trip's thoughts drifted back to Koss, and his fantasies about killing him.

"She told me about the Kal-if-fee. It could get you out of this." His voice was soft, tentative.

T'Pol considered this news. She wasn't sure how to interpret her mother's actions in revealing the Kal-if-fee to Trip. On the one hand, it may have just been a matter of honour. Recognition that he was a participant in this farce, no matter how innocent. It may be that she wanted Trip to take the challenge, considering his death a likely outcome. It may be a tacit acceptance of Trip and his role in T'Pol's life. T'Pol just could not decide what her mother's motivation was. It occurred to her that it shouldn't matter. What ever her mother's intended outcome, T'Pol had to act in the way that ensured the best outcome for her, and what she considered to be hers.

"Only if you won, which given Koss' superior strength and adaptation to this environment, is extremely unlikely."

She wasn't telling him anything he hadn't already thought of himself. "I have had combat training recently and I'm fit and young. I may have a chance."

She knew what he was doing. It was the human practice of social reasoning. Put all ideas on the table, no matter how unlikely, and together an acceptable solution may be found. She had observed it's effectiveness many times on Enterprise. In this situation it didn't matter. If he won, she would be free of Koss but her mother would still suffer the loss of her profession. If he lost, she would still have to marry Koss and live the rest of her life without Trip. As unpalatable as it was, their current course was the preferred one.

"That would solve our problem, but what of my mother?"

He sighed. "Yeah, I thought of that too."

"I know it's not perfect, Trip, but the route we have negotiated is the most logical. It goes furthest towards all our desired outcomes.

He knew she was right, but also wrong. The whole situation was wrong. "Why do we feel so bad then?"

She had no answer for him.

"I'll do it, if you want me to. Just say the word and I'll kill him for you."

A thrill went through her that was primal in nature. His words spoke to her Vulcan heart. She nuzzled in closer pressing her face into his neck.

He closed his eyes hugged her close and took a deep breath. "I guess we just have to hope for a miracle."

"There is no such thing as miracles. It is illogical to hope for something impossible."

"Okay, So let's just imagine that Koss gets struck by lightning right at the end of the ceremony, when he goes to strike the gong." Trip had seen T'Les take the gong into the garden earlier and knew it was used in the ceremony.

"The gong is struck before the ceremony and there is only a point zero zero two eight chance of lightening in ShiKahr at this time of year."

"Well, point zero zero two eight is still a chance so that's not our miracle." Trip thought for a while. "Koss electrocutes himself with his electric toothbrush the night after the wedding."

"It is very unlikely that the charge in an electric toothbrush would be sufficient to kill a Vulcan. Perhaps, if the unit was malfunctioning, it could happen. I estimate a point zero zero zero zero seven one probability."

"Still no go. Alright, I think I have it. Koss stops to help fix the hover car of the daughter of a Tellerite, Garbage Scow King, they fall in love at first sight and elope."

"There is no chance of that happening."

"Which part, Koss stopping to help someone, a Tellerite Princess, or them falling in love?"

"All of it."

"That's our miracle then."

"I don't understand the purpose of this exercise."

Trip sighed "Because no matter how slim the odds, no matter how unlikely each prospect, there are a million things that could happen between now and the ceremony, that may prevent it from happening, most of them we can't even imagine. Because your wedding is Schrödinger's cat, until we open the box that contains the future and it becomes the present, the wedding both will and will not happen, the two possibilities exist equally together. Those tiny odds, those point zero zero zero something chances, that's where you find hope, so that's where you and I have to live until tomorrow, when you either marry Koss, or you don't."


	20. Chapter 19: Marry or die trying

**Chapter 19: Marry or die trying**

The sound of a gong echoed through the compound and brought T'Les and Trip out of their conversation. T'Les was still unsure of the course her daughter and this man would chose. Each path seemed fraught with difficulties. Even T'Les struggled to see what the most logical path was.

She looked once more at the human and admired him in her dead husband's robes. She couldn't help but think he would make a good son-in-law, if it came to that. If it didn't, there was nothing preventing her from visiting Earth to see her daughter. All was not lost. The path was set. The only logical thing left to do was walk it.

"It is time" she told Trip. He nodded and followed her to the door.

Trip followed T'Les into the sitting room that looked out to central the court yard. He looked out the windows and saw Koss standing in front of a gong, next to an ancient priest who looked like he been taken out of an Egyptology display at a museum to preside over the wedding.

T'Pol was standing at the far end of the room, pressed up against the wall, looking like she was going to her execution. He walked over to her, it was time to put aside his own worries for her.

"You look beautiful" he told her, then winced. He'd had to say something to stop himself from raging out into the courtyard and shoving the gong down the face of that arrogant living statue out there.

"The priest is Solas." she said, like it was supposed to mean something to him.

"Um, okay. It was nice of him to get out of his coffin to preside over your wedding." She looked at him blankly. She lacked the capacity to deal with his sarcasm today. He sighed, he needed to cut her some slack.

"Is there something significant about Solas, apart from the fact that he's probably the oldest living being I've ever seen." Trip found he was unable to reign himself in completely.

"Solas is renown for his ability to perceive bonds. He is highly sought after to perform wedding ceremonies because of this ability. The bonds he forms between spouses are strong."

Trip felt like something had slammed into his chest. He got what she was saying and wished again that he wasn't human. That he was at least telepathic, so he could have formed a bond with her. Then this Solas would have had nothing to work with trying to bond her to Koss.

The gong rang out a second time. Trip tried to clamp down on his homicidal rage. He wanted to storm out there and beat Koss to a pulp with that damn gong. He realised rather wryly that he was probably going to get the chance to do just that. He want to call a timeout get the full story on this bond situation find out if it was a threat to them. He couldn't do either of those things, at this point anyway. He would have to trust T'Pol to decide what the risks were.

"This is your culture, you understand better than me what's at risk. Whatever you decide, I'll go along with it." He shut his eyes and took a steadying breath. "I love you, I'll kill for you if I have to."

Her jaw tensed, she blinked rapidly at him a few times and she nodded. It was in her hands.

"Trip," She said softly, a glistening in her eyes. "I will be sixty six on my next birthday.

He nodded in complete understanding. The game was over.

The gong rang out the third time.

"It's time." The voice of T'Les broke through their silent communication

Trip stepped to the side to let T'Pol pass. As she walked by she grabbed his hand

She looked at him, desperate, begging him to put a stop to this. There was supposed to be a miracle, he had asked her to believe. He put his hand up to her face.

"It'll be alright. We'll be alright." He murmured.

Her grip did not ease.

"T'Pol..." her mother said urging her forward.

T'Pol did not break her gaze, pleading him with her eyes. She squeezed tighter on his hand, he could feel the bones and sinew grinding together. The pain in his hand was nothing compared to the pain in her eyes. He looked at her and nodded. He knew what she was communicating. He sighed, resigned to his fate.

Today he would either get married, or he would die trying.


	21. Chapter 20: A Vulcan Romantic

**Chapter 20: A Vulcan Romantic.**

Solas stood before the groom and watched him take the first strike of the gong, calling his betrothed to the ceremony. The groom stood, suitably Vulcan and emotionless, as if he were waiting for public transport, not the woman with whom he should spend the rest of his life. The groom was the son of a Vulcan minister of the High Command, his status gave him the choice of priest to officiate at his wedding. To choose Solas was logical. Solas was renown for his ability to forge bonds and would be the preference for any bride and groom who anticipated a long life together. Solas could only observe that his skill would be wasted at this wedding. He wasn't a magician, he couldn't conjure something out of nothing.

A life in the priesthood had been guaranteed for Solas from a young age, as soon as his skill became apparent. In most psi measures, Solak was middling for a Vulcan. But in one he was so skilled that he had remained unrivalled since he entered the priesthood one hundred and seventy years before. The first sign had been when he was just five years old and his family had travelled to their tribal lands to acquire a sehlat cub. The dame was a productive one and there were four healthy cubs to choose from, and the runt. The runt was not just small, its fur was patchy, it's snout short (suggesting foreshortened fangs in later life) and it had small paws relative to its size but it was the one five year old Solas selected without question. Solas did not see the undesirable exterior of the animal, he saw its Katra, more specifically the potential for its Katra to bond.

Solas could perceive bonds. When he looked at a person it was like he could see a glowing web emanating from them. Every telepathic connection that person had, like a roadmap of their affection was as clear to Solas as the colour of their hair or eyes. The sehlat had outgrown its awkward phase, the smallest in a large litter, and a strongly telepathic creature with a great capacity for affection, it had suffered under a weak connection with its mother. Solas had seen that it would be a loyal, affectionate pet beyond all measure - and it had been.

Looking at the groom, Solas could see the network of bonds that surrounded the man. Finding the farther and mother was easy, parental bonds are were of a unique structure even the old slightly atrophied ones of adulthood. There were weak connections, probably to colleagues and former teachers. There were some very weak, incomplete, dying matebonds, shadows really, of something that could have existed if they had been allowed. These didn't extend to any women at the wedding, and most likely were remnants from Pon Farr that had been attended by priestesses from Seleya. What he could not find was a bond, of any kind, to the woman who was his betrothed. He had eventually located her, standing in the living room of the house, identifying her by her slightly more elaborate robes. The blandness of groom was of no interest to him, but her, he had never seen anything like it, her Katra was made of fire.

Fascinating.

He regarded her frankly, trying to fathom this strange species of soul he had never encountered before. Her Katra seemed pulse and seethe like the surface of a sun. In contrast to the groom, he could discern a multitude of connections coming from her, she seemed to almost glow there were so many. Some were strange in their nature, a form he had never seen before, not mates, not parents or siblings, but stronger than colleagues. She appeared to have three parental bonds, although as far as he was aware, only her mother survived.

A man walked towards her and her soul flared to life. The man was unusual. Solas could not see his face but his hair was light, almost yellow and cut in a style never seen on Vulcan and his ear lacked the tapered pinnae of a Vulcan. But it was upon seeing his Katra that Solas was able to understand the strange appearance of the bride's. Their katras were exactly the same. Not the same as in, composed of similar attributes. Not the same as in, similar in appearance. The same, exact copies of each other.

As the alien moved closer to her, the strange halos of their Katras seemed to shimmer, expand, extend out to and engulf one another. The alien stopped in front of her, close enough to touch and their incandescent souls merged and settled around them both, like an atmosphere of light. Solas was intrigued, it explained the multitude of connections, the strange appearance of them.

It was spoken of, of course. Mostly in pre-reformation literature, almost like a fairy tale. He had not even been sure he had believed in it himself, thinking the language was likely poetic and not literal. But now the evidence was right in front of him. They were K'hat'n'dlawa. They were soulmates. They had bonded so intensely they shared one Katra and it would contrive to always bring them together.

Solas looked once more at the groom, standing passively in front him as he struck the gong a second time. This was a complication. Once the bond would have been considered a marriage, but not anymore. The marriage was a legal ceremony formed in logic, the bond was incidental. It's presence or lack thereof not considered sufficient means to form or end a betrothal. But Solas was convinced there would be no wedding for this man today. The question now for Solas, was whether he would preside over a wedding or a funeral. It was almost certain that the bride would declare Kal-if-fee, the Katra she shared would not allow for anything else. But could the alien defeat a Vulcan? This was an unknown. It did not matter of course, the couple would either live or die together. If one half of a shared soul perished, the other could not survive. It was as simple as that.

He looked at the glowing katra and noticed something strange about it. A darkness at it's edges. It was almost as if the soul were, blurred, eroding slightly, polluted. He had seen something like it before and knew what it signified in a Vulcan, the Alien mate was an unknown so he couldn't be sure. He looked closely at the Vulcan woman again and noticed a slight tremor in her hands. His original hypothesis did seem likely. For most Vulcans it would be a death sentence, but he knew the circles the bride's mother moved in, doubtless she would be acquainted with an appropriate person to address the cause of that condition.

He watched the couple as they spoke. Their conversation was too soft, even for sensitive Vulcan ears. He marvelled at the universe that would choose to match two such different people, different species. It seemed more than random chance that they had found each other. He had heard many aliens believed in deities, divine architects that directed the course of the universe. Vulcans had examined the evidence of the universe and determined that the existence of such beings was illogical. But now he began to wonder. The improbability of the joined souls before him spoke of a master hand directing them together.

He thought of, T'Pri, his own cherished Adun'a, he had won the right to mate with her in a Kal-if-fee one hundred and forty years before. His parents had, of course, arranged a mate for him when he was a child and it had pained him to disappoint them by severing that bond. But how could he have accepted less, when he could see how a bond could be. T'Pri would be fascinated to hear of this. Like him, she was a romantic. It was not a popular personality trait in these logical times, but it was hard not to believe in love when one could see what he had seen here today.

The groom stepped forward to strike the gong for the final time. The mother of the bride approached the couple and urged her daughter towards her fate. The alien moved to step out of the way. But as the bride passed him she grabbed his left hand and stared intently into his face, her eyes wide. He looked back, just as intently, understanding whatever private communication she had made to him. The alien lifted his right hand, placed it over her cheek and murmured something. The bride did not ease her grip on his hand. The bride's mother spoke again, urging her onward. The alien gave a small nod, acknowledgement of a predetermined course. Their bond would not allow them to be parted.

The bride did not shift her gaze from her k'diwa's eyes, the colour drained from her face, her eye lids fluttered, her eyes rolled back in her head.

Her mate caught her before she hit the ground.


	22. Chapter 21: What happens at a Vulcan wed

_The character's name Fessick reminds Trip of Fezzik, from the movie The Princess Bride. This Character's name was a gift from fantasynamegenerator. When I saw it I just couldn't resist. Basically, Trip's response is pretty much what I'd do as well._

* * *

 **Chapter 21: What happens at a Vulcan wedding**

Full of panic Trip carried T'Pol over to the low couch and placed her down gently. He knelt down next to her and patted her cold grey cheek.

A Vulcan came over and Trip looked up at him.

"Someone should call a doctor. She just collapsed." Trip tried to keep the fear out of his voice.

"I am a doctor." The Vulcan said as he waited for Trip to move so he could begin his examination.

The rest of the guests and the wedding party had come into the room and all stood passively around the room. Trip rose from his position so the doctor could work and backed away in a daze, coming to a standstill next to a tall, slim Vulcan male who looked to be T'Les' age.

"I am Korrick." The Vulcan said without any preamble.

Trip looked at him blankly for a moment. "Um, Commander Charles Tucker the third." Without thinking, he stuck his hand out for a handshake..

Korrick gave Trip's hand a confused look and after a moment, where neither of them knew what to do, Trip awkwardly dropped his hand and put it behind his back. To distract from his discomfort Trip fell back on some very human small talk.

"It's lucky there was a doctor already at the wedding."

Korrick raised an eyebrow at the comment. "Luck is irrelevant. It would be illogical for a bride's family to rely on chance to provide a doctor for their daughter's wedding. A certain amount of violence is not unexpected at a Vulcan wedding."

Trip looked at Korrick wide eyed before it occurred to him that at a wedding where a fight to the death was considered acceptable, ensuring a doctor was on hand probably did represent good sense. Trip cut his losses at that point and decided that silence couldn't be any more awkward than conversation. So he kept his mouth shut and waited for the doctor to complete his examination.

The Doctor ran a scanner over T'Pol and looked at the results with a raised eyebrow. He administered a hypospray to her neck then looked up at the gathered group. "There is nothing further I can do for her." He intoned, typically Vulcan in his expressionless. "She has Pa'Nar Syndrome."

The effect on room the was inflammatory, if you could imagine someone trying to set fire to water. Trip felt like he could see the emotional suppression. Eyebrows were raising, heads were canting slightly, lips were were being being pressed together infinitesimally. It's like a Vulcan emotional hurricane, Trip thought sarcastically.

The only Vulcan who didn't take the news with equanimity, was Koss.

"She is a melder." Disdain was dripping from Koss' voice. He turned to the man standing next to him. "Father, were you aware of this?"

"It came to the attention of the High Command approximately a year and a half ago." Kurak responded.

"And you didn't think to inform me that the woman I was betrothed to was a deviant." He turned to T'Les who was watching the exchange calmly. "I release T'Pol from the betrothal contract. I was prepared to look past the obvious taint of her exposure to humans but I will not marry a degenerate."

A veil of white hot rage descended over Trip at the insult. Before he even realised what he was doing he closed the space between himself and Koss and raised his clenched hand.

"You son of bitch." He spat through his teeth and drove his fist into Koss' face.

This time Trip missed the typically Vulcan reaction from the room, he was too focused on the fact that he was pretty sure he had just broken his hand on Koss' face. Koss on the other hand had fallen backwards and struck his head on the edge of the low table in front of the chairs. He was out cold.

Trip looked up from his hand to note that the only reaction from the room was the doctor moving over to scan Koss and T'Les going to the kitchen to get something from the freezer unit, after speaking briefly to one of the other guests. He sat down on the chair opposite where T'Pol was lying and winced in pain.

The doctor looked up from his scanner and announced that Koss had a concussion and a broken nose and should recover. He retrieved a bag from the floor next to where T'Pol was lying, extracted a hypospray and pressed it into Koss' neck.

T'Less came up to Trip and placed an ice pack on his hand. He looked up at her sheepishly.

"My temper may have gotten the best of me there. Sorry for embarrassing you in front of your guests."

The corners of T'Les' mouth twitched up. I do not experience embarrassment, and a certain amount of violence is not unexpected at a Vulcan wedding."

Trip snorted and shock his head. "Well that's alright then." He stuck his tongue in his cheek and looked up at her. "So what happens now? If the wedding doesn't go ahead, you don't get your job back."

T'Les gave him an enigmatic look "We shall see." Was all she said. Trip got the very strong impression there was more she wasn't telling him.

He looked over at T'Pol still lying unconscious on the other couch. "T'Pol and I should still go tomorrow. Our ship's Doctor has been pretty effective at treating her Pa'nar symptoms. We need to get back there urgently before any permanent damage is done."

T'Les gave him an unreadable look. "That is unnecessary. The cure for Pa'nar is quite rudimentary. I have asked my colleague to contact the appropriate person to come and administer the treatment."

Trip had no idea what to say to that information and he was finally starting to learn that, among Vulcans, unless you had relevant points to add to the conversation, silence was logical.

There was a stirring of movement from the end of the table and he noticed the doctor and Minister Kurak helping Koss to his feet.

"Koss is coming to." He told T'Les tipping his head in the direction of the three Vulcan men. A disturbing thought occurred to him and he looked up at T'Les again, tongue in his cheek. "Are there going to be any repercussions for me, you know, for punching Koss' lights out."

T'Les regarded him for a moment turning the unfamiliar phrase over in her head before she responded. "The assault occurred under the purview of a Vulcan marriage. As I explained before, a certain amount of violence is not unexpected at a Vulcan wedding." She said all this with a familiar twinkle in her eyes.

Trip snorted with laughter again. He was pretty sure T'Les had just told him that the Vulcan wedding was the equivalent of 'What happens in Vegas...'.

"I believe Koss and his family wish to depart. It is appropriate for me to farewell them. While I do, you could carry T'Pol to her bedroom." She turned slightly to see the doctor, scanner in hand, ready to assess Trip's damage. "Perhaps after Doctor Fessick has seen to your injury." She didn't wait for Trip's reply, it wasn't so much a request as an order anyway. Which was fortunate, because Trip was too busy trying not to laugh at the similarity of the doctor's name to a character in a 20th century, fantasy adventure movie.

Trip watched through the living room windows as T'Les escorted Koss and his parents to the front gate. There seemed to be some sort of discussion going on and Trip wished he had Vulcan hearing so he could know what was being said. The typically neutral expressions on all the Vulcan's faces gave nothing away.

His attention was pulled back to his hand when Fessick (snicker) told him he had a fractured the fourth and fifth metacarpals. They had a brief exchange about his treatment and the doctor assured him that Koss would recover fully. The doctor pressed a hypospray into his neck and extracted a splint from his bag, fitting it over Trip's hand. He had a momentary lapse, when he thought what a coincidence it was that the doctor had brought a hand splint to a wedding, then he remembered 'a certain amount of violence... etc, etc'.

Trip rose from the seat and went over to T'Pol, touching her on the side of her face. Her colour had returned and her skin felt warm to the touch again. He scooped her up and carried her to her bedroom. Her eyes fluttered open as she lifted him.

As he lay her gently down on the bed and she regarded him silently. He sat down on the bed and gave her a wry smile.

"Hey baby, you missed all the fun." He told her softly

She lifted a hand and stroked his cheek with two fingers "You're alive." Was all she said.

"Yep, I'm alive; you're alive; Koss is alive, unfortunately. We're all alive."

She narrowed her eyebrows and cant her head. "Am I married?"

"No, you were unconscious." He kept his face straight. "Koss demanded a wedding though, so I stepped up. It was a beautiful moment. Your mom cried, Koss' dad cried, the desiccated old priest cried. Then we all went inside, got drunk on moonshine and Fessick had everyone laughing at his rhyming. You missed quite a shindig."

An eyebrow went up. "Your levity is not appreciated under the circumstances."

He chuckled. "The wedding is off. Koss released you when he found out about your Pa'nar."

T'Pol took the news so calmly it was like the past week hadn't happened and it was what she had expected all along. "I assume my mother will not be reinstated to her position at the Science Academy?"

Trip thought back to T'Les response when he had asked her the same question. "Yeah, I'm not so sure about that. It seems inconceivable, but I got the distinct impression she had a plan." His lips twitched

"But you did not fight the challenge with Koss."

"Nope, no battle to the death today."

She narrowed her eyes again. "Then what happened to your hand?"

Trip lifted his splinted hand and looked at it speculatively. "Funny you should ask that darlin', because a certain amount of violence is not unexpected at a Vulcan wedding."

"That is correct, but it does not explain your hand."

"He called you a degenerate, I punched him in the face."

"I see. I imagine you broke your fifth and possibly fourth metacarpals."

"Yes, both. But I also broke his nose and gave him a concussion."

"That is acceptable."

He laughed and kissed her. "I love you, baby."

She stroked the side of his face gently and Trip knew it was her way of saying that she loved him back.

"We will still need to depart tomorrow." She told him "I believe I need to consult with Doctor Phlox."

"That's what I told your mom, but apparently she knows someone who can cure Pa'nar."

"That is not possible, Dr Phlox consulted with Vulcan physician's. A cure is not even being researched."

Trip tipped his head in acknowledgment of her statement. "She said she knows someone and they are on their way."

T'Pol lay back on the pillows with a dark look on her face. She wasn't sure how to take this latest development.

Trip took her hand. "Look, don't look a gift horse in the mouth. A cure's a good thing." He kissed her forehead and stood up heading for the door. "Get some sleep, it's been a hard week."

T'Pol lay back on her bed and wondered under what circumstances one would consider looking in the mouth of an equine.

Trip emerged from the bedroom to find everyone pretty much where he had left them except for the main players. T'Les was still out in the courtyard, but was now talking to Solas, the priest. Koss and his family couldn't be seen so he assumed they had gone. He stood at the windows for a moment watching T'Les as she spoke with Solas. Once again he wished he had Vulcan hearing.

He reflected on the day's events. It seemed crazy in retrospect. Kind of like the bizarre negative of a telenovela, all the drama with none of the dramatics. He couldn't believe it had been just this morning that he had woken up next to T'Pol and genuinely wondered if it was the last time he would ever do that. He watched as T'Les apparently finished her conversation with Solas and turned to the front gate as it opened to reveal a Vulcan woman about T'Pol's age. Solas returned to the house while T'Les greeted the new arrival. It seemed like things were returning to normal.

He nearly jumped out of his skin when the tall, thin Vulcan man came up and stood beside him. "Commander Charles Tucker the Third?"

"Yes, um." Trip realised he couldn't remember his name. Yorrick, Derrick, Carrot, something like that. "Sir." He took the safe route. "How can I help?"

"It is my understanding that humans are not bound by a regular mating cycle and that you may engage in sexual intercourse with impunity."

Trip looked at him, mouth agape.

What the fuck!


	23. Chapter 22: The logic of emotion

_The final chapter. Thanks for hanging in there with me. Enjoy._

* * *

 **Chapter 22: The Logic of emotion.**

 _ **T'Les**_

As a mother she knew it was the duty of a parent to direct her children. It is logical for children to return to the family seat, to be guided by their parents. Youth lends itself to emotion. Parents are able to see more carefully the emotional traps of life altering decisions, like a career or a mate.

Five days ago she had thought she had cause to question her daughter's logic. Had detected an emotionality about T'Pol that was not entirely Vulcan. Had been disturbed by T'Pol's lack of logic. She had been positive then, that the course she had set for her daughter was the correct one. She had miscalculated severely. She had not, she acknowledged, been in possession of all the pertinent facts. There was information she had learned, even today, that would have altered her perspective had she known it a week ago. But there were also things she had learned, that only her daughter could have taught her. It is logical to accept that one never stops learning.

The week had been a difficult one. The cause of many emotions to be suppressed. But she had discovered an emotional aspect to her relationship with her daughter that was difficult to contain. Her daughter's distress had been impossible to ignore.

It had been difficult to accept that one could be presented with several options and find none of them acceptable. There had been a certain amount of relief when Solas had confirmed, in some matters, emotions were logical. Bonds, he had told her, were emotional in their basic structure. Were there was no emotion, there would be no bond. The other piece of information he had disclosed had been more than acceptable. Her daughter had a mate who would be a source of great fulfilment.

Events were transpiring in a far more adequate manner than she could have possibly anticipated the previous day. Really, it was quite satisfactory. That her daughter had suffered years under an illness that was so easily cured was not ideal. The irony being, that had it been cured earlier, there was a high likelihood that, due to her bond with the human, she would have died today. The Commander had shown himself to be a worthy mate, prepared against the odds, to fight to the death for her, prepared to defend her honour.

The groom's last minute withdrawal from the wedding had presented an excellent opportunity to resolve one last problem. Aside from the, admittedly satisfying, way in which Commander Tucker had expressed his displeasure at Koss' insult to T'Pol, there was also the issue of her position at the Science Academy. As the party who had terminated the betrothal contract, Koss and his family were required to provide reparations to the bride's family. The only reason T'Pol had been prepared to go forward with the wedding was to bring about the reinstatement of T'Les position at the Science Academy, so that was all she had asked for. Kurak had agreed quickly, protracted negotiations usually only resulted in the bride's family asking for more. T'Les saw no reason to ask for more. It was illogical to be petty.

She led T'Khet to the house. When she had first become interested in the Syrranites it had been in an effort to understand her daughter's emotions, that were always apparent, just below the surface. Now that association would save her daughter's life. The strange logic of chance.

As she walked into the main room she noticed Commander Tucker, talking to someone by the windows. The Commander's face was a very strange shade of red and he seemed reluctant to look at the other person. It wasn't until she noticed his companion was Korrick, that she understood his unusual body language. No doubt Korrick was taking this opportunity to investigate a topic of great academic interest to him. She considered that she should, perhaps, rescue Commander Tucker, then decided against it. If he was going to marry a Vulcan, logic dictated he should learn to navigate these kinds of awkward conversations.

 ** _Koss_**

His nose hurt, and he had a headache.

The events of the day had been unexpected. He thought of T'Pol, her beautiful face and well proportioned body. He had looked forward to possessing them, but the loss was not a great source of emotion. His father had been intent on pursuing the betrothal and he had gone along with it because he appreciated the visual logic of beautiful things and it was tradition. He had been prepared to overlook her somewhat unVulcan nature. He saw it as a challenge to bring her back to logic. He did not experience regret at ending the betrothal. Pa'nar syndrome took a terrible toll on the body, she would not keep her looks and in his assessment she had deviated to far from logic to be redeemed.

He would need to find a new mate. There was quite an attractive girl working at the Public Works Directory. She was younger but had lost her betrothed in a tragic accident. She seemed quiet and not at all emotional or rebellious like T'Pol. It was a logical plan, he would talk to his father.

He sat back in the hovercar and tried to ignore the fact that his nose hurt and his head ached.

 ** _Kurak_**

His son was a fool. All he cared about were aesthetics and tradition. Lines and curves and how they intersected and things the way they had always been done. He had no concept of politics, of the necessity of building alliances, creating dependencies, holding leverage. Kurak was a political creature, he saw the logic of power and influence. He held a position of consequence in the High Command, but gave them no loyalty. He was loyal to himself.

He was well aware of T'Les' Syrrannite associations and he had seen the marriage between Koss and T'Pol as a way to organise his situation so multiple options were available to him. Some of the decisions of the High Command had been of questionable logic and many Vulcans were starting to question their rationale. There was a chance the High Command would miscalculate and lose their grip on power. Kurak had seen the logic of having subtle links to groups that were in opposition to the High Command. Getting T'Les back her position was no hardship for him, he had held the evidence to do so all the time. It had been a logical tool to bring about a planned alliance. It was regrettable that his son was a fool.

 ** _Trip_**

Trip was in hell. It was hot, that's for sure, but that's not what made it hell. Hell was being interviewed about your sex life at a Vulcan wedding. Hell was being asked the number of sexual partners you'd had and if that was above or below average for a male your age. Hell was being asked the duration of each sexual encounter, and if copulation only occurs once per encounter or multiple times. Hell was being asked the process by which you select sexual partners and if it differs from the method of choosing a spouse. Hell was a conversation with Yorrick/Derrick/Carrot/whatever his name is. Right at that second Trip wished he had fought a battle to the death. Death would have been better than this hell.

He noticed T'Les enter the house with another Vulcan woman. He was pretty sure T'Les saw him. He begged her with his eyes, he concentrated all his mental powers and tried to telepathically implore her to save him from hell. She kept walking, straight to T'Pol's bedroom. He was sure he saw her lips twitch and her eyes sparkle. It was pretty clear where T'Pol got her sense of humour.

Trip stuttered and stammered through a further 10 agonising minutes before T'Les returned and finally rescued him.

"Korrick, I must interrupt your conversation as I need to consult with Commander Tucker on an important matter."

Korrick! That was his name. Trip made a mental note avoid future encounters with him on pain of death. "Korrick, it was nice meeting you." Trip, flustered , stuck out his hand again.

The Vulcan looked at his outstretched hand with a raised eyebrow and gave a small bow "Commander Charles Tucker the third, it was an enlightening conversation. I look forward to continuing it in the future."

Trip, dropped his hand and his eyes widened "um, yeah, sure." Trip realised his human manners had condemned him, the horror, the unmitigated horror.

T'Les led him off the the south of the house where his bedroom was. As she walked she gave him a piece of advice he could have sorely used twenty minutes before.

"Commander, Vulcans are not skilled at reading the emotional cues, that humans present, which would indicate discomfort at discussing certain topics. If you are asked a question you are not comfortable answering, simply advise them it is a private matter. You need not fear offending Vulcans with that truth."

Trip was ninety percent sure she was laughing at him. "Good to know, thanks."

"T'Khet is performing a mind meld to correct T'Pol's neuroelectric imbalance." She began

He started, "A mind meld, isn't that what got her into this trouble in the first place! I thought mind melds were deviant behaviour."

T'Les eyebrows went up. "All Vulcans have the capacity to perform mind melds. It is the current administration that has, for their own reasons, declared them unnatural."

Trip felt like a two year old who'd just had his bottom smacked.

T'Les narrowed her eyes at him. "You were aware it was considered a deviant practice but you defended T'Pol when Koss accused her of being a melder. I am uncertain of your motivation."

"Uh." Trip got the feeling he was about to reveal something he shouldn't but forged on anyway. "T'Pol didn't exactly, completely... consent to the meld that infected her."

T'Les stopped suddenly, her hand on the handle of the bedroom door, took a deep breath, closed her eyes and let it out. Trip got the very strong feeling he was looking upon Vulcan rage. She opened her eyes and regarded Trip blankly "I see." Was all she said. There was a mother tiger crouched in those two little words.

She opened the door and led him into the bedroom. "You should rest. T'Pol will need to meditate after the meld. It will be some time before the the day's proceedings can conclude."

"What proceedings, I thought the wedding was off."

T'Les gave him an enigmatic look. "The wedding to Koss has been terminated. Solas has informed me of another matter and suggests a ceremony would be advisable. We shall talk more when T'Pol is well." She gave him a strange look again. "You should meditate, it has been an emotional day." She paused, "I believe we should all meditate."

The room was hot, but not unbearably - by Vulcan standards. Vulcan homes were designed to stay relatively cool in comparison to the outdoor temperature, but to humans it was pretty close to the temperature of the crater of an active volcano. Trip stripped off his robes, put on a pair of gym shorts and set the climate controls to 'atmosphere of Mercury' as opposed to 'surface of the sun'. He set himself down on the meditation pillow in the room, focussed on the hum of the climate control condenser and entered his meditative space.

T'Pol had taught him well and he opened his eyes in the space he had constructed in his mind. He looked around, feeling the peace that came to him in this mental space. He closed his eyes again and focused on the thrum of the machine. He did not think of Koss and the simmering rage he still felt towards him. He did not ponder the ceremony T'Les had alluded to. He did not fear another conversation with Korrick. He did not feel the slight ache in his hand. He did not worry about T'Pol and the mind meld. He felt only stillness.

"Why are we in the engine room on Enterprise". T'Pol's voice cut through the soothing hum.

Trip's eyes snapped open. T'Pol was sitting opposite him on top of the Enterprise warp drive, still dressed in the purple wedding robes.

He shook his head, as if trying to clear his mind. He shut his eyes and opened them again. She was still there.

"How are you here?" He finally asked. "This is in my mind. This is where I go, in my mind, when I meditate.

 **Korrick**

It had been a fascinating discussion. He was surprised the human had been so open about discussing things which would be considered quite private to Vulcans. He had even agreed to continue the conversation at a later time. There seemed to be a connection between the human and T'Les' daughter. Perhaps he could arrange a meeting with the human next time they visited Vulcan.

 ** _Fessick_**

It had been an interesting wedding so far. He often attended ceremonies in his capacity as a physician, but, in these logical times, there was rarely a role for him. To treat three people at one wedding, that made it interesting.

The human was a strange creature. Fragile, he would not have survived a kal-if-fee if he broke his hand on the first punch. But also illogical, Fessick had sensed the alien's strange amusement directed at him and he seemed to speak nonsense. When Fessick had assured him that Koss would not suffer permanent damage the alien had smiled and said "he seemed a decent fellow, I'd hate to kill him." And the amusement had surged through him. When Fessick had told the human he would experience some pain in his injured hand while it healed, he had responded "Life is pain, anyone who says otherwise is obviously selling something!".

Yes, a strange, illogical creature. But not an unsatisfactory wedding.

 ** _T'Pol_**

T'Pol lay on her bed and felt... odd. The whole week she had felt as if her soul were trying to break out of her body. She had been overwhelmed with panic, rage and despair. Nothing she had done had assuaged it. Sometimes it was as if her katra would not allow her to live as long as she went along with wedding. Now it was all gone as if it had never existed in the first place. It was.. strange. A week of uncontrollable emotion, then... nothing.

Except the Pa'nar. She looked at her hand. The slight tremble was still there. According to Trip, her mother knew a procedure to cure it. That seemed, unlikely. Surely if it were that easy, everyone would be cured.

She lay on the bed and stared at the ceiling. She she had not slept properly for five days, but she was not tired. She had barely eaten since she had arrived, but she was not hungry. She hadn't mediated properly for days, but she was not emotional. She just wanted... Trip. So she lay, and stared at the ceiling.

After about ten minutes the door opened and T'Les entered with another Vulcan woman.

"This is T'Khet, she will cure your Pa'nar syndrome." There was no need for niceties, they were all Vulcan.

T'Pol sat up looking from her mother to T'Khet. "How will she do that Mother, it is my understanding that there is no cure for Pa'nar Syndrome."

"That is a lie, perpetrated by the High Command. Pa'nar is caused by improperly practised melds. A well trained practitioner, with the appropriate level of experience, can correct the imbalance."

"T'Khet will meld with me?" T'Pol kept her fear suppressed. It would not be appropriate for a stranger to see it.

"Yes, she has spent the last four years training with a master." T'Les informed her.

T'Pol's eyebrows went up. She got the feeling she was about to learn something about her mother. "Where does one find a master melder, considering the stigma attached to the practice?"

T'Les' expression did not change. "Amongst the Syrranites. Melding was a common practice during Surak's time."

"I see." T'Pol was not sure how to greet this news, which seemed to suggest her mother had connections to the fringe group.

T'Khet spoke for the first time since entering the room. "Do you consent to the meld, T'Pol?"

She hesitated, she could not help it. It was logical to avoid a procedure that had, in the past, been the cause of such distress. She looked at T'Les who was regarding her expressionlessly. She realised that she would find nothing in her mother's face to guide her, once upon a time she would not have even looked, her time amongst humans had changed her. In the end she realised it was logical to put her trust in her mother. T'Les would avoid harming her.

She nodded her head to T'Khet. "I consent."

Initially T'Pol resisted her presence, but T'Khet did not push, waiting for T'Pol's logic to overcome her fear. It was nothing like the invasion by Tolaris. T'Khet's mind was cool and focused. Tolaris had been undisciplined, like mould invading everywhere and sending hyphae beneath the surface. He had pushed into places no one was welcome, memories even T'Pol didn't like to enter. T'Khut did not stray off the path. She went only where she needed to be. She still learned much about T'Pol and T'Pol could feel her surprise, her interest and then at the core of the damage, her sympathy, when she discovered it's cause. But there was no judgement, T'Khet was a healer.

When it was over. T'Pol felt cleaner, lighter as if there had been some weight dragging on her mind, that had been there so long she hadn't noticed it until it was gone. She felt something else, more specifically, someone else, Trip. The implications were clear to her immediately, they were bonded. She realised he had been there all along, but her mind had been to polluted to differentiate his consciousness from her own. It was an extremely satisfying revelation. It also, she realised, explained her unpredictable behaviour over the past week. It had been the bond, fighting against her marriage to Koss, that had disrupted her meditation, sleep and appetite.

She opened her eyes to find T'Khet regarding her expressionlessly. "You should meditate." T'Khet told her. "It will help balance your enzymes and settle your hormones to normal levels. As the damage heals you will sense the bond more and more." T'Khet paused, considering whether to say more. "It is a strong bond, you are fortunate in your mate."

T'Pol nodded, she was fortunate. She lit her meditation candle, settled onto the cushion and slid straight into a deep meditative state. When she opened her eyes, expecting her white space, she was somewhat surprised to find herself, somewhere else entirely, sitting opposite Trip.

"Why are we in the engine room on Enterprise". She asked him.

 ** _T'Khet_**

It had been a disturbing meld.

When she had begun her training at the Forge with Syrran, her only thought had been for the sufferers of Pa'Nar Syndrome. The strange prejudice that had grown in Vulcan society against melding and those who practised it had puzzled her. She had rebelled against the illogic of ignoring the infected. She had never encountered one whose meld had been forced on her. Whose mind had been invaded telepathically not once, but twice.

She had felt T'Pol's fear as soon as she began the meld. To T'Khet it had simply seemed logical to fear something that had already been the cause of suffering. She had given T'Pol a moment, time to suppress the fear. It had worked to a certain extent, T'Pol did not resist the meld, but the fear had remained, infecting her mind as much as the Pa'nar had. The memory, the trauma, had been buried deep, T'Khet had almost been overwhelmed by the emotion it aroused. Fortunately her training had been thorough.

T'Pol's experiment with trellium had been there too. It had been an intriguing experience. T'Khet could discern, through T'Pol's bond, that the effect of the low doses of trellium was similar to the way humans experience their emotions. She had to agree with T'Pol, it was a seductive feeling. T'Pol could not have known that her Pa'nar syndrome made managing her emotions more difficult. With no where else to put excess emotions when they became overwhelming, trellium had probably seemed like a logical solution.

There was also the human. He had been there, if course, in every corner of T'Pol's mind. His laughter, his compassion, his intelligence, his passion. The emotions he stirred in T'Pol still lingered with T'Khet. She thought of her own betrothed, he had terminated the agreement with her when he had learned of her association with the Syrranites. It had not provoked her emotions at the time. The attachment had not been strong. She had been confident that someone else would come along, it did not really matter who. Now she wondered if it did matter. It would be difficult to forget the perfect feeling of being at one with another. The strange logic of emotions. Perhaps she should speak with Solas.

Yes, it had been a disturbing meld. In its aftermath she felt hyper-aware of her own body, the feeling of her clothes against her skin, the memories, not her own, of a man's hands and mouth and body. She must meditate.

 _ **Trip and T'Pol**_

Trip look at T'Pol, confusion written all over his face. They were both standing on top of the warp core, in his mental version of engineering. "I thought you said we couldn't bond, because I was human."

"I had assumed that was the case because of your lack of telepathic skills, I was convinced a bond was telepathic in nature. It seems I was mistaken."

"Why now, what's changed."

"I believe the Pa'nar syndrome must have impaired my telepathic abilities. Now the imbalance has been corrected the telepathic aspects of the bond are beginning to open up. I could sense you in my mind as soon as the meld was finished."

He stuck his tongue in his cheek. "Will I be able to sense you too?"

"I am not certain, try."

He stood for a minute concentrating. The feeling he'd always had when they meditated was still there. "Well, I can still feel you, I suppose it's stronger than it was before."

Her eyebrows went up. "Still? You could feel me before?"

"Sure, when we meditated, I could always feel you. It's kind of hard to explain." He shrugged a shoulder. "I figured it was normal, because you were telepathic. I could always tell when you couldn't reach a deep meditative state. That's why I was bugging you all week. I knew you weren't getting there."

T'Pol took some time to process the information. She leaned forward and kissed him. "It is not normal, that was the bond." She thought for a minute.

"Have you had any other experiences that seemed similar?"

He ran a hand through his hair. "Um, yeah. Sometimes, when we... make love, I kind of feel like I'm.. outside my body at the same time, you know, looking at myself. Sometimes I know what you're feeling. But I figured I was just subconsciously reading your fleeting expressions."

She tipped her head and blinked rapidly a few times. "There have been times, when you seem to have, deduced things about me, this has given me cause to wonder if you have some telepathic skills. Perhaps this was also the bond."

He smiled at her, and reached out and took her hand. "It feels kind of strange having this conversation on top of the warp core. Perhaps we could come out of meditation and speak in person."

"That will not be necessary." As she spoke the space around them began to blur and change. Trip looked around. They were standing in front of a set of large, floor to ceiling windows, looking over a redwood covered mountain side. Wisps of mist clung to the trees in the valleys, but the morning sun streamed over them. It was the bedroom of the mountain cabin near Guerneville.

Trip grinned at her. "That's a pretty neat trick."

The corners of her mouth twitched. Trip could feel her smile. "I have very satisfactory memories of this room, it was not very difficult to recreate it my mind."

He gave her a wicked grin. "I have some pretty good memories myself." He closed the distance between them, took her face between his hands and kissed her. She responded instantly. Wrapping her arms around his waist, one slipping beneath the waistband of his shorts, the other sliding under the hem of his tank top.

He lifted his mouth of hers. "You know," he said as he began to trail kisses along her jaw and along her neck. "I've been wondering all day what kind of underwear a Vulcan bride wears on her wedding day." As he said it his fingers found the the zip at the back of her dress and eased it down. He slid the dress off her shoulders and watched it pool around her feet. He burst out laughing.

She stood before him, a slight green tint on her cheeks, wearing the oldest, ugliest bra and undies, that he had ever seen. "They are perfectly serviceable and as my wedding was to be in name only, it was illogical to wear anything special. It is not as though I had any intention that Koss would ever see them." She told him, a slight hint of rebellion in her voice.

He realised her choice of under garment was a kind of protest against her wedding, he loved it. "Well," He said as he reached around and undid the clasp on the bra "I can confidently say you would look better out of these than in them." He threw the offending bra across the room, knelt at her feet, and started to slide the awful undies down her hips. As he did so a new thought occurred to him. He looked up at her, slightly nervous, his hands still resting on her her hips under the elastic of her panties.

"I hope you change into some slightly more enticing underwear before you marry me."

She looked down at him, understanding his meaning immediately, she placed a hand on the side of his face. "It does seem logical to make use of the priest, given that he is already here to perform a wedding service."

He grinned up at her. "Is that a yes?"

She raised an eyebrow. "You have not asked me a question."

He raised a leg so he was on one knee and took one of her hands in both of his. "T'Pol of Vulcan, will you do me the honour of marrying me, here, today?"

"Yes."

He stood up and kissed her. She returned the kiss, grabbing the hem of his shirt and sliding it up, urging him towards the bed. His legs hit the edge of the bed and she had his shorts and underwear down in one swift pull. In one movement he stepped out of them, swung her round and pushed so she fell back on the bed her legs dangling over the edge.

"I think it's time we got these off you." He laughed as he pulled the ugly undies off her and threw them in the direction of the bra. She began inching back on the bed and he crawled after her, sliding over her body, grabbing both her hands and pinning them above her head. "Now, I want you to promise me I will never see those underwear again." He told her, his mouth just above hers.

She lifted her head and gave him a hard kiss. "As you wish." She said into his mouth.

True to her word, later that day, when Trip got to strip the clothes off his new bride, in real life this time, the offending underwear were nowhere to be seen. He was rather pleasantly surprised to find that no underwear, of any kind, were to be seen.

 ** _Solas_**

Solas watched as the groom struck the gong a third time and stepped back. The bride moved forward without delay and stood opposite her mate. They knelt together and touched their two extended fingers. Their strange, luminescent Katra settled around them. Once again, Solas mused, his talents would be wasted. Not because he could not join the couple, simply because he could not join them more than they already were.

Yes, T'Pri would be very satisfied with the recounting of these events.

He spoke the ancient words.

"What ye are about to witness comes down from the time of the beginning without change. This is the Vulcan heart. This is the Vulcan soul. This is our way."

 _The End_


End file.
